


A New Banner

by Agilecipher



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 32,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26938666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agilecipher/pseuds/Agilecipher
Summary: The journey  a woman born into slavery, raised a Sith, and freed by her own moxie.Comment: Egad 100 hits! I'd love your feedback and comments. I sincerely hope you are enjoying my story.
Comments: 1





	1. Chapter 1

Theron Shan hunched over his workstation in the Republic Security Information Service headquarters on Coruscant, haphazardly tapping the small circular implants protruding from his left temple. He failed to notice his office was the last one lit while he focused on the reports before him. There was a sharp uptick in chatter regarding the distant planet of Makeb: Hutt trade had been interrupted by some relatively new Darth, a lord of the Sith Empire’s Dark Council. Theron’s curiosity had been piqued when the data suggested the Darth’s actions resulted in an extension of open, free trade for the people of Makeb rather than harsher restrictions to take a cut for the Sith Empire. He doubted the veracity of some of these reports, and with good reason: massive earthquakes had sent the majority of the population fleeing the planet a month ago. They had slowly begun to resettle, eager to take advantage of their resource-rich planet to rebuild. He made a note to set better surveillance on this Darth Imperius and keep an eye out for any resurgence of Hutt activity on Makeb, but his poorly-staffed organization was thin enough on resources. It would have to be a job for another day.

Shrugging into his favorite red leather jacket, Theron shut down the console and left his small office within the heart of the Republic, navigating his speeder through the bustling city of Coruscant and returning to his apartment after another yet another uneventful day. Orbiting a faraway planet, a security advisor on the Imperial Fleet processed equally confusing information. Lana Beniko was startled from her study of excessive funds being re-routed to a laboratory on the planet Manaan when Darth Arkous entered her office. “What do we know about this new Council member, Darth Imperius?” her boss demanded, slamming the door behind him. The full-blood Sith Lord scowled, the studded tentacles on his blood-red face quivering with his anger. “I watched her slay her master – a common enough event on Dromund Kaas – but she’s so young. And blonde.” He spat out the last word like a curse, making Lana very aware of her own sandy yellow hair. She was Sith by training, not birth, and while the Empire gave humans equal rights, many conservative Lords openly called for a purge for so-called purity of blood. “I hardly think,“ Lana began to interject, wanting to defend her loyalty to the Empire despite her race, but Arkous shouted over her: “We have fewer full-blooded Sith on the Council each year. And then she just upped and left! She has not so much as docked on Dromund Kaas since being made a member of the Council.” He paced across the small room, crossing the distance in three large strides: “I want a background report – more than what is in the general files, and I want to meet her. Bring her here.” His blood-red eyes glared down at Lana as he gave the last command and despite her nature, she nodded meekly. Then, as quickly as he had swept in, he left, leaving the door hanging wide open. Lana rose to shut it and, giving in to her baser Sith instincts, paused in a fury before sweeping the heap of datapads off her desk with a satisfying crash. She sorely wanted to take her lightsaber down the center of the desk, but knew that would not be worth the report – she had enough of those to write. It was nearing the end of the day and she would have her work cut out for her. She stacked the datapads back on the desk and left for the Fleet’s central cantina. It was as fine a place as any to begin gathering data, she justified, and she could use a stiff drink.

  
The circular bar in the middle of the massive space station was bustling when Lana arrived. She threw a small wave to the familiar bartender, a young, pale green Twi’lek with kind eyes, who quickly slid Lana’s favorite cocktail down to her. With a nod of thanks, Lana retreated from the crowd to slide into a corner booth, giving her a good vantage point of the other patrons. The Fleet gathered a wide range of characters, mostly traders, all eager to make connections without garnering attention. It was a galactic hub for the Empire, but for Lana, a mere stopping point.

  
Her assignment as head of Darth Arkous’ security detail had been a significant promotion, but she had expected it to be a stepping stone – she craved more leadership, if not the occasional field assignment. Instead, she had been trapped behind a desk for nearly eighteen months. At thirty-five, she worried it was a dead end. The Darth, relied on her analytical skills and cleverness, which she had in spades, but had not been open with any intelligence he gathered when he left the fleet on what he deemed “business.” It was never intended to be a two-way relationship, but it certainly didn’t help Lana along her career path – her mastery of the Force justified her entitlement as a Lord, but Arkous was unlikely to bestow any favors upon her. Lana had simply not yet played the politics of the Empire well enough. In what began as an effort to demonstrate her initiative and desire to succeed by providing her boss with preemptive information on his future destinations, she had covertly begun tracking his travels. When presented with one of her earlier reports, Arkous had only scowled, the black markings on his dark red face turning to thin lines, and demanded she respect his privacy. It became very clear he would never put her in a position to succeed, so she pivoted her efforts. She continued to track his business meetings and expeditions off world, particularly regular visits to Manaan and an outer-rim planet, Rishi, but kept the newfound information to herself.

  
Relaxed after finishing the overstrong cocktail (the Twi’lek was notorious for taking care of his regulars), Lana nudged her way back through the crowd at the bar to pay her tab. As she waited for the bartender, a petite blonde on the stool next to her patted her shoulder as if they were old friends. “Leaving so soon? Let me buy you another! We’re celebrating!” Lana quickly assessed the petite human female wrapped in a heavily-hooded black cloak, and her two companions, a dark-skinned pirate with a distinctive facial tattoo and an uncomfortable-looking Imperial officer. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lana asked defensively. The girl leaned in, and spoke in an loud false-whisper: “I’ve been made a member of the Dark Council, but shhhhhhh!!!!!” and burst into laughter. Lana’s fair skin turned ghostly, but she quickly composed herself. “I will gladly take you up on that drink – I’m Lana Beniko, advisor to Dark Arkous - ” “Ugh!”, the young woman interrupted, tossing back another shot and indicating to the bartender to bring another round by waving her hand in a circle over her head. “He’s a piece of work. I don’t think he likes that I have the council seat on his right.” “Quite.” Lana smirked. She’d never met a Darth so forthcoming – maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but this was getting interesting. “Won’t you join me?” Lana gestured to the corner booth where she’d left her cloak. “Sure!” The crowd parted as the newest member of the Emperor’s Dark Council took the new round of shots from the bartender and stood, her cloak falling away from her shoulder to reveal her formal Sith Lord armor, black leather and metal bonded for battle. She paused and waved off her companions: “guys, get out of here. You’ve put up with enough of me lately.” The tattooed man sighed with relief and gave a small wave as he turned away while the officer bowed stiffly, leaving the two women alone.

  
They slid into the semi-circular booth, close enough to easily hear each other over the ever-growing din from the bar. “To your new title,” Lana raised her glass, eager to gauge her companion’s reaction: “Darth Imperius, I presume?” The younger woman rolled her sharp blue eyes as she clinked shots and drank. “Thanks, I hate it. And please, just call me Moxara.” She tucked a loose lock of her white-blonde hair behind her slightly-pointed ear and finished the last sip from her glass, adding it to the growing collection on the table. Lana wanted to pry further but feared overstepping. Her curiosity won out: “Newly appointed and already eager to get away?” Moxara nodded, her lips pursed. “It was too much, too fast. It wasn’t the plan. Hell, I didn’t have a plan.” ”I can’t say I deeply enjoy my current appointment, either,” Lana volunteered. “Right?” Moxara exclaimed. “They act like they’re doing us this galactic favor with titles and responsibilities, but it’s just so they can control us. I don’t want to be a puppet. There is a wide galaxy of people out there we could help, if we could bring them together.” This gave Lana reason for pause. “And how do you propose going about that?” “Well,” Moxara sat up straighter, her demeanor suddenly sober, “I’m going to take over the Empire.” Lana’s sharp yellow eyes went wide as saucers at the treasonous claim before Moxara’s face gave way to a huge smile and laugh, her eyes squinting small tears of mirth. “Lana, I just want to be free and do my part. The Empire enables me to travel and help people, if not on a huge scale. With the Emperor missing for years, the Council runs itself, so they won’t miss my absence. I’m just a cog in the machine and that’s okay, at least for now.” Lana nodded, deeply respecting Moxara’s analysis of the situation, and pivoted the conversation to less serious matters, and they shared stories of past travels. “I have some trading to do on the fleet after my last few assignments, but mostly, I think my crew needs a break. Ping me if you’re around.” Moxara stood from the table with only a slight wobble, Lana was grateful to see, and they clasped forearms, parting as friends.

  
Over the next two days, Lana crafted her report for Darth Arkous, adding generic facts about Darth Imperius from public Empire logs and omitting more pertinent facts to make Moxara seem as minimal a threat as possible. She even included Moxara’s claim that she “just wanted to do her part for the Empire”, ensuring she sounded dull and unambitious. For the first time in ages, Lana saw the next rung up in her career; by providing her tailored version of the information to Arkous, she could position Moxara to gain access she herself would continue to be denied. She was relieved when Moxara agreed to meet her at the cantina again the next evening. They each had a drink in hand and had slid into the familiar corner table when Lana opened up bluntly: “I need a favor. Darth Arkous wants to meet you.” She explained what she had been asked to do and how she had gone about the report thus far. “He wants to know you aren’t a threat, but if I can get more information about his business dealings, I can leverage the data to make a lateral move. Anywhere but trapped under him.” Moxara’s brow furrowed as she processed, her small features tight with anxiety and distrust. “Why are you bringing me into this?” That gave Lana pause. “I trust you. I also think we can help each other achieve bigger goals.” Over the next few drinks, they agreed on a strategy that would position Moxara to gather deeper intelligence on Darth Arkous than Lana could access alone. “Are you sure you want to take this risk? Moxara asked, fearful for her new friend’s safety. “It’s just a job, after all.” Lana shook her head fervently: “I need to know what Darth Arkous is up to. Nothing good is coming from the places he travels, and with the Emperor still absent, the discord in the Empire is going to cause it to implode from within. It’s not just about a personal career move. I’m all in.” Over the next round, they discussed how Moxara could handle Arkous while keeping any hint of her relationship with Lana hidden. The two Sith women toasted to their plan and prepared for the introduction the next day.  
  
The meeting was scheduled on Darth Arkous’ personal ship, a large vessel docked in a private fleet hangar. Lana had met her at the bay doors and escorted her on board, maintaining her position as a mere assistant. Moxara had entered his chambers in her full Sith Lord regalia: long black pauldrons extended from her shoulders bearing talon-shaped, deadly spikes, a heavy chest plate of grey steel was bound tightly to her small frame, knee-high boots covered her shins with external armored plating, and even her fitted slacks bore metal strips of defensive shielding. She epitomized the unquestionable strength the Dark Council embodied, but for her own physical features. Arkous remained seated in the large throne-like chair of his chambers when she entered as Lana retreated to stand in the corner. Moxara’s floor-length black cloak billowed behind her as she gave a low, formal bow of deference, one black leather-gloved hand on her chest and the other extended. Playing her part perfectly, she deferred to Darth Arkous as the older, wiser member of the council, ensuring he had her whole-hearted support in his endeavors. She wore her cloak’s hood up, covering her pale locks from his well-known disdain for humans, though her face remained uncovered. “My Lord,“ she kept her bright blue eyes low, “You requested my presence.” Arkous’s ego prevented him from having any doubt of her fealty, as he knew to his core that his Sith blood was superior in every way to this mere human: he was made to rule and she was made to serve. “Yes, we have not yet properly met after the… incident… on Dromund Kaas.” His contempt for her success over her late master was thinly veiled. With a sneer of confidence that he would be able to control this pawn, he framed a test of her compliance. “I feel we can be of use to one another, but I must know I can trust you. I would request your assistance with a small side project of mine on Manaan,” He began, nodding along to his own smug words as he stroked the short tentacles on his chin. “Some of the scientists I manage seem to have forgotten where their loyalties lie, but I have business elsewhere and cannot go in person.” Moxara kept her head low as he continued. “If you would deign to remind them, I would be ever so grateful.” Lana bit her lip to keep from smirking while she waited quietly in the corner, maintaining her role as his helpful aide, as Moxara gave another exaggerated bow. “It would be my pleasure, my Lord.” He rose and gave a dismissive wave: “I will have my assistant contact you with the details. I do look forward to your service.” Silently, Moxara bowed back out of the chamber, Lana quickly following her to escort her off the vessel. 

  
The meeting had gone even better than Lana had dared hope, but now she had a new problem: getting Moxara safely in and out of the laboratory on Manaan without tipping off Darth Arkous to her secondary plan. Capturing surveillance footage and exploring the facility had the potential to provide information that would define the future of the Empire, or at least Arkous’ plans for it. That evening, Lana pondered options, then was reminded of something Moxara said when they first met: “There is a wide galaxy of people out there we could help, if we could bring them together.” If Lana could pull this off, it would be a miracle of the Force.

  
Theron had very little oversight and only vague orders with the Republic Security Information Services: find data and keep his people safe. The lack of focus on specific missions left him unsatisfied with the contribution he was making. Another day of unconnected recon reports and dead ends left his eyes glazed over as he readied to leave. He stood to turn out the light of his small office when a sharp red light blinked on his console and caught his eye – a verified priority message directly from the Sith fleet. It had to be nonsense, spoofed advertising garbage, but his idle curiosity got the better of him. Throwing his jacket over the back of his chair, he sat back down and began to decrypt it and process the contents.

To: Theron Shan, Republic Security Information Service Agent  
I am pursuing a lead that I believe to be mutually beneficial to our causes. If my records are correct (and I know they are), you have the slicing expertise to make this work.  
I found her: the real thing. The Force-wielder who will unite us. You’ve seen her work on Makeb.  
Use the following cipher to contact me via secure holo.  
-Elle Bee, Your Ally

It took only a brief chat via holo between Lana and Theron before he agreed to meet her on Manaan. Based on everything Lana told him, he would get valuable information for the Republic and see this supposed Light-side Darth in action, all from the safety of Republic offices on a neutral planet. It was a risk he was eager to take.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:  
The ocean planet of Manaan was renowned for retaining Republic and Empire bases with strict peace accords. The underwater drilling that resulted in a profitable trade of kolto, a precious medical resource, made it necessary for both governments to defer to the laws of the Selkath, the native species. The aquatic beings bore fish like faces with wide set eyes in thick, oily skin. Their humanoid bodies and innate nature to heal had eased communications when approached by outsiders. In a central courtyard cantina, Lana and Theron met to finalize their plans. They would both be connected to the laboratory security system to follow Moxara. Aside from following Darth Arkous’s orders to subdue the unruly scientists, Moxara would explore the area, gaining access to secured areas with Theron’s remote slicing. Lana would pass the data to Moxara to protect him from being on any record as helping the Siths. His terminal in the local Republic office was provided temporary access codes that Lana had acquired. On the record it would look like Moxara was simply following orders while Lana would be able to pry where she otherwise couldn’t – there would be no evidence of Theron’s involvement. They shook hands and parted, agreeing to log onto their respective systems when Moxara’s shuttle arrived the next day.

  
Flying into the Manaan spaceport, Moxara appreciated the vast glistening ocean that covered the majority of the planet. A blue pearl in the galaxy of darkness, she thought. She sent a brief message to Darth Arkous that she had landed and would provide a report to Lana upon completion, as requested, then told Lana she’d arrived. From her Imperial terminal, Lana would guide Mox through the facility and provide information on the small research teams that needed to be addressed, then point her to the questionable areas that concerned Lana. Moxara had no idea that a third party would also be watching her every step.

  
Throwing her shoulders back and creating as imposing a form as her petite frame would allow, Darth Imperius entered the Manaan laboratory. Her long black cape billowed behind her and while she left her face uncovered, the silver and black metal armor she wore shone brightly in the harsh office lights. The clacking of her reinforced boots echoed through the large antechamber as she approached the intake desk. She scanned her datapad to verify her credentials and, after marching over to wait at the elevator, she activated her purple lightsaber with the crackling sound of lightning, spun it in a quick circle, and re-holstered it at her hip. The entry guards, low level Imperials, suddenly became very busy with their datapads as she scanned her codes and proceeded down into the facility.

  
Level one was inhabited by the standard research workers – those Mox had been sent to address. Referencing the notes Lana provided on her datapad, Mox located Lab 2582B. The mechanical whisper of the door sliding away was immediately drowned out by the mechanical whirr of a large centrifuge in the middle of the room. The scientists, a mix of native Selkath and Imperial humans, were hunched over desks in the narrow, cramped lab, immersed in their work filling test tubes, labeling samples, and inserting them in scanning devices. When they did not acknowledge Moxara’s entrance, Lana whispered into her ear via the comms link, “Research team Alpha – that’s Dr. Farawk closest to you, one who was lax in sending his reports to Darth Arkous.” Moxara gave a sharp nod, knowing Lana was watching via the security feed, and went into action.

  
At his terminal in the basement of Republic offices, Theron’s stomach dropped with disappointment. He watched from the security feed as the ominous dark figure Force-choked the scientist, raising him a foot off the ground before dropping him into a crumpled heap. With a flick of her wrist, four other scientists were thrown against the wall, falling to their knees to cower before her as she spoke Darth Arkous’s message of increased output and unfailing loyalty. This was no servant of the Light, just another power-hungry Sith Lord, Theron cringed. A message from Lana requested an access door number and he quickly replied with the codes. Returning to watch the security feed, he saw each and every scientist stand back up and shake themselves off before returning to their stations. Shaken, but not injured.

  
Moxara repeated the show of force for two more labs before Lana spoke again. “There is a tunnel to your left that isn’t on the main map. This isn’t just kolto processing and I want to see what Arkous is up to.” Following the dimly-lit corridor, Moxara took the indicated elevator down using the new codes. She passed windowless locked doors, each labeled with a patient number. “Try 034, please” Lana requested. The acrid smell of industrial cleaners burned Mox’s nose as the dark room flickered to light upon her entrance. Metal cabinets lined the walls, along with a countertop littered with trays of plastic-wrapped surgical equipment. A long steel table spanned the center of the room: there was unquestionably a body under the sheet, and Moxara was not eager to peek. “First round of drinks is on me when you get back,” Lana encouraged her through the comm piece in her ear. “And second. And third.” Mox replied as she pulled down the sheet. A huge Selkath, abnormally large for his species, lay beneath. His musculature was strained far beyond normal, even in death, and his chest was stapled down the center, apparently recently autopsied. Next to him on the table lay a variety of metal implants, still attached to bits of tissue from recent removal. “Can you scan those for me?” Lana asked. “So long as I don’t have to touch them,” said Moxara, holding her holorecorder close enough to view the inscribed codes.

  
“Genetic modification… looks like adrenal pumps.” Theron thought to himself, following along with the progress. A huge breach of the Selkath laws – this could get the Imperials kicked off Manaan altogether, cutting off their supply to the precious healing resource that made the planet prosperous. This intel alone would net him a bonus, he thought with a smile. The Darth hadn’t really hurt anyone, either, but he wasn’t sold on Lana’s beliefs. He tapped his cranial implants, a nervous habit, as he followed along with the Darth’s progress down to the third level.

  
Exiting the room and proceeding down the elevator, Moxara was faced with an airlock. There was a large warning plaque by the thick, barred door: “Pressurized area. Severe fire hazards. Safety protocols to flood if breached. Employees assume risk of fatality.” “So, this must be where they keep the good stuff.” Moxara mused. “We shall see. Try 092884.” Yet again, Theron’s sliced code worked flawlessly. Taking a deep breath, Mox pulled the large lever of the air lock and stepped through the portal. Automated lights flickered to life, revealing that the inhabitant of this room was very much alive.

  
A Selkath three times her height was on his knees in the corner, his thick neck chained to the wall over a metal drain. Overly-developed, sinewy muscles nearly exploded from every part of his body and an intravenous device dripped gurgling chartreuse liquid to a needle in the thing’s neck from a large tank. He seemed asleep, or at least subdued but his chest heaved with life: Moxara was not eager to wake him. She awaited instructions from Lana when another voice boomed through the lab’s projection system. “I see Miss Beniko has led you astray to meet my little pet.” Darth Arkous growled from the invisible system. “You are not the little pawn I thought could be useful, are you?” “I’m no one’s pawn” Mox replied defiantly, circling to further assess her surroundings. The room was large, but divided by heavy lab counters in front of three walls and huge tanks along the wall next to the beast. “I can’t have you running back to the Council with news of my pets for the Revanites – they do so love to pander to the Selkaths for their precious kolto.” So he was planning to build an army of these things… but what were Revanites? Mox processed the new information as she heard hiss of the airlock sealing behind her and an alarm screeching.

  
“Security breach detected. Patient 042 enabled. Pressurized area sealed.” The metallic recording drove Moxara’s attention to the thing in the corner: the giant Selkath had stood up and gazed around, assessing his surroundings. “I’ll let my little pet take care of you before sharing the news with the Council that we have lost our newest member. How tragic. Goodbye, Darth Imperius.” Arkous gave a devious chuckle as he closed his comms.  
The recording resumed, encouraging all employees to exit the area immediately. Moxara rushed to the airlock to find it fully sealed. “Lana, I could REALLY use your help now.” Mox pleaded, putting her strength against the unmoving lever. She could hear Lana mumbling softly through her coms piece but she didn’t seem to be talking to Mox. Moxara turned at a huge roar of anguish followed by a massive crash – the Selkath had pulled the chain away from the wall, taking huge chunks of the tile with it, and was charging at her. The thing was fast. With a lightning crackle, Moxara’s dark purple lightsaber flew to life in her hand. She flung herself at its leg, but the heavy flesh was merely scorched by her slash. His huge arm caught her shoulder with a rapid backswing and knocked her forward. Sliding on the tiled floors, she pleaded again for Lana’s help: “I need to get out of here!” She threw a bolt of lightning from her fingertips at the mutant’s chest but had little focus: the beast only seemed to get angrier and more intent on crushing her with the new scratch. Leaping to the right, she swept her lightsaber in a butterfly motion, aiming for the narrow elbow joint. She had cut much deeper this time and its forearm hung limply as it pursued her, making another heavy swing with his intact arm. She backed up again, too far, and was pinned against the wall. Rolling to the side, she barely missed his giant fist smashing through the wall, where it snapped a power line that ran along the ceiling, now dropped to the floor and sparking with life.

Moxara slid along the wall to the other side of the room behind a counter, watching the live cable jump about, snapping deadly electricity with each leap threatening to make contact with the huge tanks that had been feeding the beast chemicals. Her eyes darted rapidly between the beast and the cable as she circled around the room to get a better vantage. The cable crackled loudly as it snapped like a whip and connected with the tank’s electronics panel. Within seconds, it began to smoke and flame, the monitoring device melting as the contents bubbled and frothed.

“Fire detected. Emergency protocols commencing. Pressurized area will flood in two minutes.” The alert system began to count down. Moxara was not ready to die, let alone by drowning with a giant mutant Selkath. “Lana, don’t let me down…” her voice was losing strength as panic set in. The one door that was her escape was still sealed shut and the tiled room offered no better options. “I really don’t want to drown down here.” The Selkath continued to advance as cowered in the corner.

A man’s deep voice spoke through her comms device: “You need more liquid, not less – drag the beast into water and light it up!” She didn’t have time to process whose voice this could be or why he was helping her, but dashed behind the counter separating her from the monstrosity and threw her saber in an arc at the biggest tank. Her saber returned to her hand as the murky neon green liquid seeped onto the ground, where the cable popped and spewed deadly electricity. Steeling herself, Moxara concentrated her powers and used a massive push of Force energy to shove the beast into the electrified puddle. The Selkath mutant froze as the electricity fried its nervous system, then fell to the ground.

  
“Thirty seconds to emergency protocols.”

  
Moxara could barely catch her breath, knowing she was still trapped in this room. “See where the beast ripped away from the wall? Finish the job and go through there. There is an evacuation craft at the end of that tunnel.” The man’s voice urged her on. Moxara leapt over the corpse, avoiding the cables that still jumped with deadly electricity and concentrated her powers to push the wall further apart. She clambered through the narrow gap into the small tunnel and flung herself into the craft, pulling the portal tight behind her. She hadn’t touched the console when it came to life, steering her away from the wreckage.

  
The craft brought her to a small port next to the Imperial offices of Manaan, gently buoying her to the surface before inflating a ramp to the dock. Relieved there were no guards paying attention, she gingerly exited into the bright daylight and shook herself off. Still tense from the unexpected entrapment and battle, her threat responses were on high alert. While her comms link had been silent since the strange man had given instructions that narrowly saved her life, she thought it best to return to Lana’s office – that had been their original plan, anyway. Halfway down the hallway, she heard Lana’s voice screaming and a reply… the voice of her strange savior. Moxara entered the room quietly, observing the two.

  
“What was I supposed to do, let her DIE?” the tall, dark-haired man yelled. “You were SUPPOSED to stay quiet” Lana shouted back. “Now we’ve BOTH been discovered. I’ve already been banished from Imperial service! How can I help her now?” She slammed her hand on the holocom and his picture appeared on a Republic newsnet with the headline, “Theron Shan: SIS traitor turned Imperial Spy.” He ran his fingers through through the hair over his ear, , worn short on the sides and spiked into a small mohawk across the top – the holo was a perfect likeness, down to the cerebral implants that protruded from his left temple and the heavy red leather jacket he wore. “We BOTH have bounties on our heads and SHE” Lana pointed at Moxara, acknowledging her at last, “is presumed DEAD.” They backed away from each other and sighed with exhaustion. “Welcome back, Mox,” Lana nodded at Darth Imperius. “I’m so glad you’re safe.” Moxara began to remove some of the formal regalia she had worn for visual impact, setting her cape, heavy metal pauldrons, hip guards, and chest plate on Lana’s desk. Theron watched curiously; in her simple black tunic and slacks, she did not look at all like the Sith Lord who had threatened helpless scientists or fought a monstrous Selkath mutant.

  
“Thank you for saving me.” Moxara said simply, tucking her lightsaber back into the holster on her hip and turning to the tall stranger. His dark green eyes softened as she came closer, her petite stature forcing her to look up at him. She extended her hand. “I’m in your debt, Theron, is it?” He nodded. Moxara assessed him with pure blue eyes and shook his hand, immediately knowing she would trust this man with her life. Lana sat back on her desk. “We need to regroup. This is a mess. I need to gather my things from the Fleet. We need to figure out where Arkous was taking these monsters and to what end.” She glanced at Theron expectantly and he realized she had assumed his participation. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.” Moxara turned to Lana, “I’ll wait for you on the Fleet and keep a low-profile.” As she turned to leave, she paused and put a hand on Theron’s arm, “May I have a word, privately?” Checking his pockets for his comms, he nodded farewell to Lana and followed Moxara.

  
She led him to a cantina in central Manaan - more public than Theron preferred - and immediately opened up. Her serious demeanor during the mission was washed away with the first drink she knocked back. She told him how she was a slave until reported as Force-sensitive, being sent to the academy on Korriban and being subjected to sadistic trials. Being named Darth Imperius was the latest of odd names and titles she’d been given – hating each more and more. To his surprise, Theron found himself sharing more than he ever had, telling of his rather opposite experience, being born to a Jedi Knight out of wedlock and surrendered to the Jedi Order for training. When it became apparent that he had no Force sensitivity, he was removed to standard Republic education with the shame of not carrying on his family's legacy. "What legacy?" Mox had asked, leaning in toward him over her drink. "My last name is Shan." He said it like a confession but kept his eyes on her to gauge her reaction. "THE Shan? As in, Satele Shan the Grand Master of the Jedi Order?" He nodded slowly. "THE Shan, descendant of Bastila and Revan?" He nodded again, “I’d really prefer you just call me Theron.” "Whelp, you've got me out-done for family drama, since I have none left. And just call me Mox." With an easy smile, she extended her glass to toast his, “to not letting names define us!” before launching into the tale of a particularly messy excursion to Taris.

  
Though not pureblood, she was still Sith, and that gave him reason to pause. This charming and enthusiastic woman of the galaxy had been trained by his enemy, killed on their behalf... but it wasn't her choice and it wasn't the path she followed now. In an unadorned black tunic and her short blonde hair in a simple ponytail, she was anything but a terrifying Sith Lord. At only twenty-two, she was made Darth for having exposed traitors within the Empire and brought them to justice, but had not returned to the dark council since Lana had suggested a plan for a greater purpose. Somehow, Theron had been tangled into that – he had no regrets. At twenty-eight, he was ready for a new adventure away from the Republic and his past.

  
As she finished her story of Taris, he smiled at her thoughtfully, pondering on how much people change given the opportunity. Even without Force sensitivity, he knew she was a power of good in this galaxy and that he would gladly lend his skills to enable her success. "So, a pile of dead rackgouls and one crazy Sith Lord later, I finally escaped that toxic dump, only to be sent to Quesh!" she regaled. "Obviously they thought I hadn't been exposed to enough poisonous gasses." She lowered her voice, "but maybe that was the Rhodian behind us". Broken from his analysis of this quixotic woman, he toasted her: "to escaping noxious fumes!" They fell into easy laugher and he was startled to notice she'd moved around the table to sit next to him. He'd dropped his guard, and that was concerning – every iota of his Republic Intelligence training had slipped away. As the hour grew late, they left the cantina and paused outside part ways. Before he could say good night, she quickly closed the distance between them and gave him a light kiss. “Thank you again, Theron.” If his shock was apparent, she didn’t seem to mind, having quickly turned and headed off. Theron wandered home in a daze: a kiss from a Sith - and he was still alive.

  
The threat to their safety escalated as the impact of their Manaan mission became public. The three of them met via a secured holo to discuss next steps. Lana’s patient and calculated voice commanded the tone of the conversation: “I am in exile, Theron has been ousted from Republic Intelligence, and you are removed from the Dark Council, presumed dead. What you accomplished in discovering part of Arkous’s plan has put us all at risk, but I maintain: we must pursue this. I propose we separate and use our remaining security contacts to form a new plan.” Moxara protested, “No – it’s not right. I mean, your positions… your lives.” Her reticence and fear overwhelmed her. “I’ve always been an outcast – I’ve lost nothing. I can confess it was all my idea and you two can return.”  
Theron stared straight into her eyes, as much as he could through the Holo. “We need you. You alone can bring down this cult.” Lana nodded in agreement “You need to flee and let us…” The holo flickered, to Moxara’s great dismay. “Trust us. We will find you when it is time,” Theron’s voice came through clearly, before the connection fully died. Mox fell forward, her head in her hands, feeling utterly alone.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:  
The next year crawled for Moxara as she traveled across the galaxy, dropping into local canteens and lending her skills to communities in need, Empire and Republic alike. She began to think she had merely dreamt up Theron. Perhaps he had run away with Lana – they were so similar in mind and profession. What was she? A Sith and ex-slave at that? Reclusive in her quarters, Mox meditated frequently on her past and what she would do, should she have true freedom. She had disbanded her old crew from her ship, unwilling to drag them into such unknown risks. Her ship’s sensors scanned constantly for anything from Lana or Theron, but Moxara drowned in silence. It was only when she could no longer hold her eyelids open at night that she slammed the scanner off and fell into a fitful sleep.

  
It had been four hundred and thirteen days when Moxara sat up straight as a rail, awoken by a sharp whine from the device on her bedside table. She groped for the datapad while rubbing the sleep from her bleary eyes as she tried to focus.

  
Pirate war on Rishi! Priority objective!  
\- Unknown sender

  
Thinking it was nothing but a bad advertisement for galactic ale, she threw the datapad back onto the table, pulling the sheet over her head. Her closed eyes were shocked apart by bright blue light, slowly forming a picture of a man with bird wings on a wood-planked boardwalk. The bird-man nodded and her vision turned to a lush jungle where an Imperial soldier and Republic soldier surrounded an alien enemy – one of the Selkath mutants – working together to fell him. As the blood spilled beneath their feet, her vision morphed again into an open arena with a single hooded figure with arm outstretched, threatening her with a lightsaber. She squinted to peer closer, but he faded into the distance. Rushing to the controls, she almost barreled through her protocol droid. She apologized to it (knowing he was coded to be sensitive) and proceeded to reset the course of her ship. If Rishi spoke to her in messages and dreams, it was where she should be. The Force – and perhaps someone else – had made her path clear, and she knew better than to fight it. She ambled back to her quarters and fell into a dreamless sleep, peaceful at having clear purpose.

  
Moxara covered herself with a dark grey, hooded capelet that hid her face while leaving her arms and legs free, ensuring mobility should she need to engage in combat. The well-worn leather boots she wore afforded Moxara a quiet step as she proceeded along the moldy wooden boardwalk extending from her landing bay on the island planet of Rishi. She didn’t bother trying to hide her lightsaber’s helm, strapped tight to her hip – everyone here was armed. She wove amidst the motley crowd of pirates and merchants, seeking her unknown quarry as the morning fog began to burn off.  
Theron paced the small war room hidden in Rishi’s merchant district. Would she figure out the message? Would she come? Would he ever see her again? Lana interrupted his inner monologue: “She landed. The game is afoot.” They shared a heavy nod: the real work would begin soon. A pirate gang here was confirmed to have direct contact with the Revanites and knew the location of their base – perhaps the true purpose of the cult’s significant destruction – but they were mired in a heavily armed fortress that neither Theron nor Lana could penetrate by guile alone. They needed their strongest weapon, but had to bring Moxara to Rishi without the Empire’s suspicion. Thus began the creation of the great pirate, Mox.

  
It was a silly plan, they knew, but would provide a disguise for her to enter the island city with a modicum of established power and ease introductions with pirate gangs and conspirators. They aimed to lead her to their base indirectly. Spreading rumors and plots was well within the capacity of the two expert spies, so Theron had spliced local news outlets to reveal the threat of the new Pirate Queen who had decimated rival pirate crews. Lana milled through local watering holes, asking how anyone could have survived an encounter with the infamous Moxara, flashing the picture on her holo offhandedly. Soon, the name was commonplace and her image laden with the threat of disruption to trade.

  
Unsurprisingly, Mox was astounded to discover her persona to be well-known on Rishi; she had barely disembarked before being accosted in the street. The narrow walkway was too cramped for her comfort, with small knickknack shops and canteens that were the poorly-disguised fronts for illegal cargo transfers. Her gaze darted about, absorbing the new surroundings, when none other than the bird-man of her vision had greeted her with open wings, gesturing her toward the makeshift table and seats out front his tiny establishment.

  
The Rishi native introduced himself and seemed overjoyed to encounter such a celebrity, even a nefarious one. Moxara’s awe at meeting such a strange new species was quickly mollified as she learned of the hardship of his people, their optimism in more formal trade agreements, and his knowledge of her enemies.

  
“My enemies?” She had set her drink down, glad for an excuse to lay the sickly-sweet nectar aside. “Of course!” her new friend replied. “I know of no fewer than three bounty hunters and pirate chiefs eager to claim they ended the Great Pirate Mox, the Blades most of all” She stifled her laughter, for she was no pirate, but decided not to correct him offhand and explore the connections she could make through this new title. She pried the bird-man for details of one of the potential threats and noted directions to where he could be found. It was a starting point, at least. She purchased a small bottle of nectar from her new friend as a gesture of goodwill and tucked it into her pack – it would make a decent gift, she supposed. Foreign curiosities always had value somewhere.

  
Mox wound her way through the narrow allies of Rishi’s main port and entered the cantina the bird-man had described. Leaving the bright afternoon light for the dim bar temporarily blinded her, but she could sense no nearby enemies – for now. The single room was scattered with small groups, clearly separate pirate clans by their colored gear, but not packed, to her relief. She sidled up to the heavy wooden bar and ordered a shot of her favorite clear liquor, sliding credits across to the bartender. Drink in hand, Mox spun her stool to survey the crowd, seeking a face the bird-man had spoken of. It didn’t take her long to identify the Rhodian in a garish orange vest as her quarry. She rotated back to the barkeep, knocked back her shot, and slid the glass back to him with a nod of thanks.

  
Mox had never been one for guile when she could address a situation head-on. Meandering over to the Rhodian, she pushed her hood back to reveal her face. With a broad smile, she addressed the group in orange: “I hear someone from the Blades is looking for the Great Pirate Mox, dead set on challenging her to a duel. Mere rumor or am I wasting my time?” The Rhodian squinted, as much as his large reptilian eyes could, as he raised a blaster. “Took you long enough,” his translator droid spoke from behind, as the rest of his cronies created a half circle around her. “Pray tell,” she asked, carefully assessing the five men, each larger than her by a head, “what have I done to deserve such attention?” “It is what you have not yet done,” The translator intoned: “best me. I would not lose my business to some pirate queen upstart! The Blades alone control Rishi.” “Now, now, that’s a bit much,” she began, but saw his finger tightening on his trigger. He never did have the chance to pull it, as she swept her vibrant purple lightsaber across his arm then clean through his neck. Two of his cronies had stepped forward, but she quickly dispatched the hulking Trandoshian with a vibroblade and the lanky cyborg carrying an oversized bowcaster. The three other cronies in orange fought over one another to escape the back door.

  
The remaining patrons stood up from behind tables and resumed their idle chatter. Moxara was frustrated with the lack of information she could gather. Acknowledging it was a dead end, she dumped a pile of credits on the bar to cover her tab and cleanup, pulled her hood back up, and slipped out into the docks. With the sun setting over the bay, the port was thrown into a harsh contrast of orange rays and shadowed corners. Moxara wasn’t ready to retreat to her ship and persisted down another alley, only pausing when faced with a tall figure in a full cloak heading in her direction. Her hand fell to her lightsaber, ever ready, but as the distance closed between them, the stranger lifted her face, revealing cat-like yellow eyes.

  
“Lana!” Moxara gasped in shock. “Not here.” Ever calm, Lana rounded on her and took her elbow, ushering her further into the alley. “It worked. You’re here. Thank the Force.” They entered a decrepit doorway disguised as an over-capacity inn. The narrow entrance quickly opened up to an office fit for the military security forces – walls filled with maps and an entire server cabinet surrounded a large holotable that projected a relief of Rishi and… her. Lana stepped back as Mox took in the war room. “We’ve been waiting for you – I was concerned you wouldn’t play along with the little charade,” Lana smiled. “It’s so good to see you.” Moxara turned to face her; “We?”  
“What, you think Lana did all this on her own?” Theron leaned on the door frame of a side room. His dark brown hair was parted simply on the side, hiding his implants, and his signature red jacket bore dark stains Mox didn’t care to question. The stubble on his face and small wrinkles by his eyes revealed it had been a rough year for him as well, but Moxara still found him startlingly attractive. He strode into the full light of the room and crossed his arms. “We finally have a real lead on the Revanites.” “Maybe let her settle in a bit first, perhaps?” Lana had carefully placed her hand under Mox’s elbow again, perceptive as always. Frozen in place, Moxara pieced together their puzzle while her chest heaved with the relief of being among her two most trusted allies.

  
“Well, fine. We can discuss business tomorrow. Welcome back, Mox.” Theron gave a broad smile and approached her, his deep green eyes glinted as he gazed upon Mox’s pale face. Releasing Moxara from her supportive grip, Lana smiled. “We missed you, but this was the only way to safely get you here. I need to retire. Oh-seven-hundred, Theron?” Theron’s hand waved goodbye to Lana while Mox stood frozen in place. It was only when they heard the heavy clang of the main door lock that they crossed the room toward each other.

  
Theron timidly raised his hand, cupping the side of her face and gently ran his thumb along her cheek, drinking in her petite features. He was inexorably drawn to her, but the last year had put him at an unfair advantage. Moxara struggled to speak: “You were planning this? For me?” Theron nodded: “we need you. You are the key to unraveling this Revanite scheme.” Mox broke into a small smile, “I don’t feel so strong right now.” Theron lowered his hand to take hers. “Maybe some liquid courage while we catch up on the last year?” “I’d like that,” she squeezed his hand as he led her through to the small sitting room.

  
The lights flickered occasionally as Moxara assessed the area; two small couches and a heavy chair, all well-aged, surrounded a low table piled high with data pads. The back corner was a small kitchen area, where Theron buried himself in a cabinet. Mox pulled off her grey capelet and released her armored shoulder and backplates, heaping her things on the chair. As she set her lightsaber atop her things, Theron joined her with hands full of two glasses and a bottle of dark red wine. After setting them on the table, he removed his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair, adding to her pile.  
“I was saving this,” Theron said, taking a deep breath as he pulled the cork free, “for when you came back.” “Nothing.” Moxara whispered. “Nothing for… so long.” He filled the glasses and handed her one. “I was completely in the dark.” She bit her lip, waiting to gauge his response. He sighed heavily and took a large gulp of his wine. She watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and took a small sip from her own glass. “If I’m just a tool for this mission, I understand.” She set her glass on the table and clutched her hands in her lap. “I’m so relieved to see you and Lana. Now the mission can move forward.” Theron set his glass beside hers and pulled her hands into his. “I buried myself in work – but that work has been centered on bringing you back – not just for the mission. Watching you on those holos as you crossed the galaxy – “he waved his hand over the stack of devices on the table. “You scare the shit out of me.” She looked down and tried to pull her hands back, frowning with disappointment and shame. “No!” he exclaimed. “Not like that… you … you awe me. You are this extension of the Force I never had the connection to, but it feels like you ARE my connection to the Force. To a purpose. You are the purpose. My purpose.” “I’m not just a weapon,” she murmured, taking another sip of her wine as she processed his outburst.  
She leaned over and picked up one of the holos from the stack. She watched her past self usher a group of miners into an escape pod before setting off explosives within the spice mine. “You were watching me, the whole time?” Theron nodded. “I like that one – you got everyone out safely. In this one,” he picked up another, “you made the Republic captain confess his treason, and this one,” he shuffled through the deck, “you returned the medicine to the refugees. Lana has seen all of these, too. She helped cover any evidence that would have had the Empire following you, as I did the same for the Republic, using our remaining loyal connections.” “I killed a lot of people” she stated matter-of-factly, eyes still averted from his. “You saved a helluva lot more.” Theron lifted her chin to meet her eyes, a darker blue in the flickering light. “You are making an impact already,” he continued, and reached over to lift her chin gently, “but it’s not just what you do – it’s how you do it.”  
“Moxara, the galaxy may depend on your strength, but I am enamored with your…” he paused and smiled sincerely, “Your moxie.” She couldn’t help but laugh. Having focused so hard on her work and very survival over her entire life, she’d never felt safe to let down her guard. He began to laugh with her, embarrassed at his silly play on her name and unsure of how she would react. “Hey Theron?” She turned and faced him directly. “Yes?” his eyebrow raised as he looked down to her. “Only you get to call me Moxie.” She set down her drink and looked up at him, the tension palpable.

  
Whatever fear or doubt they each harbored over the year apart melted away as she leaned up to kiss him. He scooped her up in his arms, pulling her tightly against him. “My Moxie” he whispered into her ear before trailing kisses down her neck. His rough chin surprised her, causing a visceral reaction of desire that made her breath catch in her throat. She turned and straddled him, gripping the bottom of his shirt and pulling it free of his trousers, lifting it over his head. Mox paused when she had his arms pinned above him with the material still covering half his face and pressed her mouth to his, pushing his lips apart as she nibbled and sucked, forcing her tongue in his to possess his. Theron groaned, grinding his hips up against hers, making her keenly aware of his growing erection. As she released him of the shirt, he lowered his arms and grabbed her ass, desperate to explore all of her. Running his hands up her narrow waist, he explored the straps and padding that covered her. “Sith clothing is far too complicated,” he growled. With an amused smile, she released a catch behind her neck, causing the straps to loosen. “It keeps me safe.” “That’s my job, now.” With one hand under her ass and another behind her neck, he stood swiftly and flipped her down onto the couch. Her hands lifted to explore his muscled chest and shoulders, more tentative than he expected.

  
Theron took her small hand in his and placed a deep kiss on the back of her knuckles, never releasing her eyes, before pulling her padded top over her head. Relieved to discover no more layers, he tossed it aside and kneeled before her, cupping her small pert breasts and running his rough thumbs over her rosebud nipples. Moxara moaned softly, lacing her hands through his hair as he leaned in to kiss and lick her tender flesh, suckling her gently. “By all the Masters, Sith and Jedi, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He pulled her close in a deep kiss, punishing her lips for their too-long absence. She gripped his hard shoulders, losing herself in the ecstasy of his touch, and lowered her hands to undo his belt. “You make me weak, Theron – you’re all I want.” He pulled away and eased himself up onto the couch beside her, wrapping his muscular arms around her. “You deserve better than this.” As if to prove his point, the lights flickered again and began a high-pitched hum of bad wiring neglected too long.

  
She was suddenly aware of the spring in the couch that had scratched her back unnoticed as they explored each other’s bodies and a heavy exhaustion set in. Lacking the will to argue with him, she laid her head into the crook of his neck and curled up in his lap, lulled to sleep by his heavy breathing and the feel of his warm flesh on hers. Once he was sure she was out, he carried her to the small cot in the back of the office and laid her down, then gently removed her boots. He distracted himself from the heavy tension in his trousers with the small buckles from her ankles to knees. Finally releasing her from the heavy armored footwear, he left and returned to lay his jacket over her as a makeshift blanket. She rolled over, pulling the soft red leather close as she slept.

  
Lana entered the office at oh-seven-hundred, as promised, looking sharp and well-rested. Her shoulder-length blonde hair hung freely and her bright yellow eyes shone of a good-night’s sleep. Finding Theron snoring loudly on the couch, fully dressed, she gave a small kick to the low table that caused the stack of holos to crash to the floor. He rolled off the side of the couch in shock, landing on the heap of holos. “What the fuck, Lana?” “Time to work, Theron.” She replied in her dry tone. “Where is she?” Blanching, Theron stood and waved Lana away from the back room, grabbing the small heap of Mox’s belongings from the chair. When he opened the door, he found her sitting up on the cot. “Is everything okay?” Moxara asked, clearly having heard the exchange. Theron failed to form a coherent sentence: she wore his jacket open over her naked chest, the curves of her breasts glistening with a light sheen of night sweat. He wondered if there would be a day when the sight of her wouldn’t take his breath away. Clearing his throat, he told her, “if nothing else, Lana adapts. Besides,” he smiled as he handed her the padded top and armor she’d discarded the night before, “she’s Sith, too. You certainly embrace your code when it comes to passion – I expect she’d understand.”

  
Standing and shrugging out of his jacket, Moxara took her belongings and began to pull the supportive bindings and protective shells into place. She didn’t seem to mind his watching, so he leaned back against the door frame to enjoy the view. With the last strap tightened and her lightsaber re-equipped in her waistband, she tightened a buckle on her shoe, bending at the waist to flaunt the curves of her ass – he had seemed to appreciate it enough last night. Theron brought out a different side of her, making it easy to be playful and flirty, the carefree twenty-four year old she so rarely could be. “As much as I’m enjoying the show, we have planning to do. I will make good on my promise, though.” He strode up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, giving her a light kiss on the cheek and whispering in her ear, “You will have everything I can give and more, Moxie.” She relaxed against him and gave a heavy sigh. “I don’t know about the last bit, but I know the work never goes away, especially if Lana is waiting for us.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4:  
They spent the day reviewing local maps and the detailed dossiers Lana and Theron had collected on the potential Revanite contacts. If they could get Moxara through the pirate compound to the data center, she could enable Theron to slice in and identify the coordinates they so desperately sought. Lana was the first to stand and call it quits, begging off that her eyes were strained from reviewing the same data to excess. Theron shooed her out the door with a small smile of thanks before grabbing Mox’s hand and giving it a sweet kiss. “There’s something I want you to see – quick!” and pulled her behind him. She barely had time to pull her hood over her blonde hair as she was dragged through the narrow alleys, Theron occasionally looking over his shoulder to throw her an easy smile.

  
Mox and Theron reached the end of the dock as the dual suns set, throwing the bay and distant ocean into a burst of warm orange and pink glittering rays. “They align so rarely.” Theron told her, never releasing her hand. She turned and threw her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to kiss him. “The Force brings all things together, but you are a force unimaginable.” Theron shook his head and pondered, “I don’t know how you came to be such a beautiful star in my life, but I am so lucky to have you.” Mox smiled up at him and waved out at the suns as their last rays fell beneath the water line. “You’re my star, too, Theron. We will orbit together.” After sharing another deep kiss, she broke away. “So, I get you’ve been here a bit – what’s the living situation?” “Oh, um, Lana and I have a small apartment, but… the walls are thin.” Moxara raised her eyebrow. “Two bedrooms, seriously, just. Rishi construction is not designed for privacy.”

  
With a gruff sigh, Moxara rolled her eyes and began striding away. “Wait, where are you going?” Theron followed her, his brow furrowed with concern. Without turning, Mox threw her hands in the air. “My ship has a shower AND a bedroom.” When he didn’t respond, she spun to face him while skipping backward, not losing her momentum. “Well, are you coming?”

  
“Oh.” He rushed to catch up.

  
The recycled air of her ship was a great relief from the humidity outside. Theron was suddenly acutely aware of not having a change of clothes, but decided that was a problem for his future self. He couldn’t hear the orders she gave her astromech, but followed her to the captain’s quarters, removing his jacket and folding it over a chair back. The small room was all deep greys and blues with indirect lighting to lend a soft glow. The large bed against the far wall had one pillow and a thin blanket – Empire efficiency. As he absorbed the new surroundings, Mox approached him. “Theron… in here, I need you to not think of me as a Darth or a Sith Lord, or even a member of the Galactic Empire. This is one of the few places I can just be …” She hesitated. “Moxie,” he finished her thought, nodding. “No rank, no alliances or wars, no ancestry to complicate things.” She lunged up on her toes to give him a swift kiss, sealing the agreement. Hearing a quiet series of beeps at the door, she greeted her astromech, who had a tray waiting for her. “Thank you, X2 – that is all.” She closed the door with her elbow and put the tray of food and drinks on the small corner table and poured two shots of the clear liquor. As Theron reached for one, she grabbed them both and tossed them back easily. He feigned shock before she poured another and handed it to him. She grabbed one of the small berries from the tray and held it up to his mouth, smiling broadly, but pulled back when he leaned in to bite. Sensing her playful deception, he dodged the berry altogether and kissed her before they erupted in laughter at the fun of flirting and just being Moxie and Theron.

  
“I don’t know about you, but the Rishi weather is a bit damp for my tastes.” She unhooked the waistband that kept her lightsaber close at hand and tossed it to the floor. “I’m sorry I couldn’t prepare better accommodations last night,” Theron muttered sincerely. “We… I really wasn’t sure when you’d come.” She lowered her eyelashes as she unclasped her armor and padding. “That sounds like a task we can work on tonight.” Throwing it off to the corner, she leaned over to strip her boots. Absorbing the double entendre, Theron watched her perfect pale breasts hang forward and bounce with her motions, craving to fondle them again and elicit that divine moan Moxie had uttered just the night before. After tossing her boots aside, she looked up at Theron with a raised eyebrow. “Going to join me or stand there ogling again?” She reached into the shower and turned it on, the steam quickly flooding out. She bit her lip and undid her fitted slacks, peeling them down and tossing them onto the growing heap in the corner before walking into the shower and pulling the small door around her.

  
It felt like an eternity passed before Theron could collect himself. He had never coveted such a thing as to be betwixt her cleft, parting the soft flesh to bury himself inside her. Throwing his boots aside and stripping his shirt and belt, he felt a single-minded desire for Mox – to have her entirely as his. His cock ached as he released himself from the tight trousers, springing free to hang heavy among dark brown curls. When he pried the shower door ajar to join her, she spun and paused, eyeing him slowly head to toe. Mox was grateful the hot water had pinked her flesh, hiding her flushing cheeks. “You’re letting the cold air in.” She tilted her head and turned away, rinsing the cleanser from her thin blonde locks. He stepped into the narrow stall and took the cleanser from the wall, eager to scrub the days of stress and sweat away before allowing himself to further pursue this heavenly creature before him.  
Thin scars traced down her right shoulder, evidence of the sadistic training on Korriban. Fading bruises on her hips and knees told of more recent encounters. He wanted to kiss them all away, take her away and hide her. She turned back to him, sensing his fear – her Force awareness providing feedback outside the capacity of his implants – they were limited to protect him from mental control with the Force. Her face relaxed as she realized it was not fear OF her but FOR her. With eyes locked on hers, he reached out to her, tracing his fingers along her collarbone and around her small breast, circling her hip before he stroked a thumb along her inner thigh. Her fingers threaded behind his head, wending in his thick hair as she kissed him, encouraging him to explore her small frame. With his left hand cupping and massaging her breast, his right dipped further, his fingers gently parting the soft folds to circle his thumb over that precious nub. She took a sharp breath and leaned into him, relying on his strength to keep her upright. He encircled her with his left arm, holding her firmly while gently dipping a finger into her crevice. His hard cock was pressed up against her thigh as he gripped her, slowly delving and swirling his finger to explore. “Fuck, you’re so tight.” He pulled his finger away and she watched as he sucked on it. “And sweet.” He raised his hand to her face and pressed his thumb into her mouth and she began to suckle greedily, licking and flicking her tongue with a promise of things to come. Dropping his hand to her cleft again, he worked two fingers into her while massaging her clit with his thumb. She reached behind him and shut the water off as she fell away into orgasm, moaning as she pulsed around Theron’s fingers and blood rushed from her head. Giving a final swirl of his fingers, he removed his hand to grab her under her ass and lift her. She accommodated by wrapping her thin legs around his waist, her arms limp over his shoulders as she shuddered in pleasure.

  
He was relieved to carry her to a proper bed this time, instead of the feeble cot, and laid down her gentle frame. She recovered quickly from her heady bliss and grabbed his hand, pulling him onto the bed with her. Moxie’s light fingers ran down his muscular abdomen and she drifted the back of a fingernail along his hip. The contrast of her soft fingertips and sharp nail had Theron’s cock at full attention, and she didn’t hesitate before gripping the soft, hard flesh. Rolling over him, she slipped down his body while alternating between cupping his balls and running the back of a fingernail up his shaft. As she kneeled before him, the light caught her brilliant blue eyes before she lowered her soft lips onto his hard flesh. Lightly flicking her tongue under the head as she began to suck and tease, she pushed her wet locks of hair behind her ear. Theron looked down at this perfect vision, her mouth sliding down around his cock, and his chest heaved with need. Leaning forward, he scooped her up under her arms and flipped her on her back, climbing on top of her. “You don’t like that?” she asked, eyes wide. “Gods yes,” Theron panted, his knee pushing her legs apart, “but I want all of you tonight.” She nodded and reached down again to his solid cock and eased him into her. He could feel her resistance, she was so tight, but slick, he pushed further with each small thrust, then buried himself deep inside her. Her soft gasps turned into long moans as he filled her again and again. Her hands pressed hard against his chest as she tilted her hips to meet each thrust. Theron attributed her faint white glow to his own eyesight as he groaned loudly, “Oh fuck, Moxie!” before shuddering and releasing inside her. He rolled to her side, his spent cock falling across his thigh, and she curled toward him to rest her head on his heaving chest. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her tight, and she tugged the sheet up over them both.

  
Theron awoke the next morning to hear Moxara humming in the shower. She poked her head out as he sat up in bed and nodded to the pile of his clothes, cleaned and sorted neatly on the desk. “I’m sorry – I sensed you wake up. It’s so strong now, I couldn’t help it. But I had your clothes cleaned.” She stepped out of the hot water and began to dry her hair. “Water’s hot if you want it. Not sure how much is left, since I have no idea how long we’ll be on this planet – I don’t have a permanent hookup.” Theron rubbed his eyes groggily, “too bright”. “Ah, you’re not a morning person.”Mox smiled. I’ll have the mech bring some caf before we head back to the office. I love learning new things about you.” She wrapped herself in a large towel and stepped aside as Theron stumbled into the hot shower, not dignifying her cheerful chatter with a response. The caf and clean clothes did appeal, though.  
A metal cup on the edge of the sink held a toothbrush, razor, hair scissors, comb, and other conveniences. Theron was curious if those had been there last night or newly delivered, but decided to not pass up the opportunity. He removed the week-old stubble from his chin and trimmed the sides of his hair before showering, then combed it back into a low faux-hawk. Satisfied he’d put himself together, he pulled on his freshly cleaned trousers and tan knit shirt, then belted on the two blasters he’d carried for the last five years. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, lacing his boots when Mox returned.

  
She had donned a slim, light blue jacket crossed by black straps, holding her small shoulder, chest, and back armor plates in place. Subtle seams in her neat black slacks indicated more armor defense. Theron wondered how much it all weighed, as she moved so easily about the room and re-equipped her lightsaber. He’d felt the weight of the reinforcement in her boots when removing them just two nights ago. “It’s almost seven and I’d hate to make Lana upset. Shall we?” She extended a black-gloved hand which he squeezed while following her to the door. Before she opened the hatch to exit her shuttle, she gasped, “Oh, I forgot something!” Turning quickly back, she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and kissed him deeply. “Right then, off to work!” Following her into the morning glow of Rishi, Theron wondered what he’d done in a previous life for the Force to bring him a beautiful, clever, playful Sith Lord. Remembering his training in the Jedi Temple as a youth, he grimaced – all things in balance. How long could this last?


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5:  
The next three weeks found them hard at work each day, patrolling for intel, developing infiltration strategies, and complaining about the heavy humidity that beset the island in summer. Their progress was slow, but they were satisfied in working toward a clear goal. Vague communications grew into a plan of attack and blank maps developed into attack routes. Suffering no impending timeline, they planned methodically to ensure any operation they executed would be a success. Theron and Moxara continued to fall into each other aboard her ship at night, studying the angles and curves of each other’s bodies with an intense passion. Theron’s appreciation of her beauty only grew as he learned what made her giggle or sigh at his touch. He had never known such a perfect balance in his life, between work and a relationship – he’d all but avoided the latter for the last seven years of his career. Moxie relaxed into the security of his affection, knowing he had no ulterior plan for her as a Sith or Darth or any other of the titles she hated.

  
As they had after so many other long days, the three meandered to the small cantina they favored in the market district after closing up the makeshift base of operations. It was a dark and musty bar with rows of old bottles lining the walls and a myriad of patrons from multiple pirate clans eager to drown their sorrows. There was always a dull hum of chatter over the old piped-in music, affording the trio some security of privacy. The bond between them grew naturally, beyond relying on each other for the integrity of their work and into friendship. Lana’s clever quips and analysis of the locals made Moxara laugh more than she ever had, and her critique of the Empire and Republic alike delighted Theron in turn. Lana and Theron exchanged stories of Intelligence training, always trying to one-up each other with best practices. “Yes, but it’s VERY hard to get good intel when they’re bleeding out,” Theron challenged her. “Well, I couldn’t very well tempt a Trandoshan with sexual favors” she raised an eyebrow at Mox, who threw her hands in the air. “Hey, don’t look at me, I just follow orders.” “It will be a warm day on Hoth before I believe THAT,” Lana replied dryly. Theron gave a loud guffaw and raised his glass in a toast: “To disregard for the establishments,” then his tone became serious, “in the hope of building a better galaxy.” “Hear hear!” With grave voices, Mox and Lana met his glass with theirs and they drank deeply. “Speaking of change,” Lana piped up, “I’m growing very tired of this backwater planet. Moreover, I think it is time.” Her eyes sparkled and settled on Moxara. “I’m ready” Mox nodded. Theron said nothing and took another long pull of his drink. “Oh six hundred tomorrow will give us plenty of time to get you into the camp before the larger patrol teams set up. You have the package I prepared, so I’ll see you at base tomorrow” Lana continued, rising from her seat. Throwing some credits on the table as she walked away, she turned back, “Oh, and do try and get some sleep tonight.”

  
Theron squeezed Mox’s hand under the table and settled the rest of the tab before they left. Walking back to her ship through the normal evening island fog, he didn’t interrupt her pensive silence, noting her pace was much slower than her usual sprightly gait. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and planted a kiss on the top of her head. She closed the door behind them when they reached her quarters on the ship and removed her armor and clothing, quietly tucking herself into bed. Theron followed suit and pulled her close against him, her head slipping into the comfortable nook of his shoulder and her hand resting over his heart. He placed his hand over hers and whispered, “Good night, my love” into the darkness. Her thin leg wrapped around his and she whispered back “I love you too, Theron.”

  
“Lana said this would blend in more, but I’m not really sure.” Mox frowned, adjusting her outfit in the morning. The navy blue jacket she wore had a broad collar and heavy brown straps across the chest, matching the dark brown slacks that fitted into her new boots. Each item had exaggerated cuffs, from the wrists of her jacket to the tops of her boots. She was a model Rishi pirate. “Lana knows what she’s talking about.” Theron nodded, adjusting one of the askew buckles. “But Moxie, you’d make bantha hide look good.” He brushed her pale cheek with the back of his knuckle and flicked the leather strap binding her blonde tresses into a small ponytail. Moxara blushed; “We’d best get going.”

  
Watching Moxara go on dozens of missions throughout the last year was completely different than being responsible for supporting her on one. Theron’s stomach quelled as he weighed the risk of telling Lana it wasn’t time yet. He wanted nothing other than to stay in the blissful state with his Moxie, but the work that had brought them together would be bound to separate them. Before the sun rose, they were back at the office to bid Mox good luck before she hopped a speeder to the island coast where the Revanite’s pirate conspirators were headquartered. “May the Force be ever in your service,” Lana intoned gravely. “Just… come back safe.” Theron added stoically, repressing the desire to kiss her once more.  
Once Moxara left, Lana turned to Theron with a stern glare: “There will be time later. Right now, I need you focused. Centered.” “Get out of my head, Lana.” He looked away from her sharp eyes. “It doesn’t take the Force to see it, Theron. Besides, you know your implants block me.” “Oh, you’ve tried, then?” he bantered back. “Theron, this is not the time.” She ushered him to the station where he would be monitoring security checkpoints and paused when he was seated and logged in, placing a hand on his shoulder: “I love her too, Theron, in my own way.” Lana arranged herself at her own station to manage communications with Mox via earpiece. Theron rubbed his temple and tapped the small cranial implant that both prevented mental intrusion from Force users and enhanced his tech capabilities. Lana was right: he had to focus to help Mox. Unlike Manaan, he wouldn’t have visuals, but was beholden to the verbal information Mox passed through Lana.  
They were confident in their plan: Moxara would sneak into the Nova Blades loading dock and compromise communications towers, giving Theron access to slice them remotely. If that went accordingly, they would learn where the Blades were headquartered and who their Revanite contact was. The route laid out was clear, but would rely heavily on her ability to blend in with the constant surveillance of the gang.  
Moxara’s disguise made it easy for her to approach the loading dock and bypass the patrols during the shift change. She slid into a line of hungover pirates, using the credentials Theron had provided to scan into the compound, and kept her head low as she ducked to the first communications tower. If she could get Theron access to slice it, they could identify the exact coordinates of the networked data systems and, hopefully, the location of the Revanite contact. “One tower down, two to go” Lana affirmed as Mox replaced the cover of the tower access panel and slipped into the early morning shadows between buildings. It took another hour for her to access the second tower; two guards had decided to use it to discuss their supposed trysts the night before. Lana had encouraged her to dispatch them, even suggesting a nearby place to hide the bodies, but Mox would have none of it. Only hearing Lana’s end of the conversation, Theron cringed, distracting himself with the small bits of data he could collect from the newly-compromised comms towers. When the third tower came online in his system, he provided the triangulated coordinates for the base to Lana.

  
“There is plenty of chatter – a separate island they are using as a labor camp. Looks like the Nova Blades are funded by slave labor.” Lana nodded, scowling at this discovery, and relayed the information to Mox. “They take hourly shipments between the docks and the camp – you just need to hide in one of the containers.”

  
“Wonderful, just how I was transported from a slave camp to Korriban.” Moxara seethed as she crouched through the stacks on the dock. Stolen from her family as a child, she’d always considered it a trading of slave collars when she became a Sith neophyte on Korriban. Lana gave her the shipping code of a container set for the next transport and Mox slipped through the unlocked door and into the large metal box, suffering as the mid-day heat pounded the thin sheeting, creating a small oven inside..

  
When the crate was unloaded at the slave camp, Mox listened carefully, waiting for Lana’s signal to exit. “Theron’s been working with the comms you accessed – well done. If you can find the slave master’s office, and it seems to be the only networked building there, it should have coordinates to the Blade’s main base. It’s likely you can slip in without drawing much attention.” Lana instructed. “Or not.” Moxara spat back. She’d slipped out of the container and her eyes had reacclimated to the harsh midday light. From the docking bay on the coast of the island, she could clearly see the camp surrounding hills of mines. As she drew closer, she watched five groups of cuffed and chained slaves being marched in and out, stumbling over their bare feet under the scorching sun. Moxara’s lightsaber flew into a fury as she lunged at the first slave master, then the next, stabbing and slicing as slaves and masters alike realized what was happening. The meager blasters used to keep slaves in line were powerless against her blade and Force powers. She leapt from target to target, beheading the leaders and guards, searing through the chains linking the slaves and leaving a wake of blood and bodies behind her. She threw scorching bursts of white lightning at each of the guard huts, lighting them aflame and sending more guards running to her eager blade. When the defenders were but a pile of corpses, she turned to the mines themselves. With a deep exhalation, she pulled down the earth over the entrance to each mineshaft, burying the openings in meters of sand and clay.  
The screaming had ceased and fires reduced to piles of ash when she paused to catch her breath. She was covered in dust and sweat, and loose locks of her blonde hair stuck to her face. Her tireless hatred had propelled her through so much destruction; she scanned the camp and assessed the damage. The mines were fully caved in and the guard huts burnt to the ground, all but the one small clay building that was the slave master’s office. The twenty-odd slaves she had freed now huddled against one of the shipping containers, eyes wide at the clay-dust covered Sith who had freed them. Moxara deactivated her lightsaber and approached the group.  
“You are safe now,” Lana listened to Mox address them in a commanding tone. “Here are the medpacs and rations I have on me. I will arrange to have you returned to the main island, to your families. Your lives are your own.” The slaves timidly took the vials and packs from her outstretched hands, silently nodding thanks as their shock abated. Their eyes slowly faded from fear to relief, trusting in the promise of their unexpected freedom.  
“Lana?” Mox asked into her comm with a quiver of hesitation as the adrenaline faded. “Can you…” Lana interrupted: “I’ll arrange for the transport. Find the data,” her voice calm and steady.

  
Back in the base, Lana turned to Theron. “We should have the data soon. She cleared out the slave camp.” “She what?” Theron looked askance at Lana. “She was supposed to sneak into the main office…” Lana shook her head. “She forges her own path. She will get the data, but took it upon herself to free the slaves. We’ll have them picked up and returned to the main island by sunset.” He nodded at her. “And she’ll be back safely, too.” He seemed to tell himself for reassurance. Lana bit her lip, doubtful of her decision to keep Mox’s excessive bloodshed a secret from Theron. She had not merely freed the slaves: she had razed the entire mining operation to a crisp, slaying over a dozen of the slavers. Should he know what she was truly capable of, or what might await if he broke her heart?

  
With the camp cleared out, Moxara walked straight into the office and linked the control system to Theron’s signal. “Loud and clear.” He gave Lana a thumbs-up. “Bring her home.” With the threat of unknown enemies gone, Moxara surveyed her options for returning to the base, relieved that transit via shipping container was off the menu. A small bay of speeders hugged one dock. She helped herself to a newer model, and rode back over the shallow tides connecting islands. The sun had just begun to set and for the first time in months, Moxara felt satisfied with a good day’s work.


	6. Chapter 6

Two days later, Theron awoke as the lights on Moxara’s ship slowly came to life, set to mimic the sunrise of her local planet. When he first questioned it, she said something about it being necessary for her rhythm. Today, she rolled onto her stomach, yanked the singular pillow out from under his head and gripped it firmly over the back of her own. Laughing, he yanked the sheet down and gave her butt a light swat.

  
“Recovery day” Mox mumbled. “And you want to spend it just sleeping?” Theron rolled toward her on his elbow and danced his fingers down her back and around her hip. She wiggled her butt in response to the tickling. “You really want to play that game?” she threatened from under the pillow. He rolled on top of her and gave her a full body hug, his morning erection pressing into her back, and was surprised when she pushed herself up from the bed, flipping him over onto his back. It was so easy to forget how blasted strong she was. Her blue eyes flashed playfully as she straddled him and pinned his hands down at his sides: “Oh dear, I seem to have captured myself an Agent. Whatever shall I do with him? She batted her eyelashes and wove her head in mock confusion.” Theron smiled and bucked his hips up against her: “Force him to tell all his secrets, I suppose - keep him as a love slave?” Her grip on him disappeared as she rolled off, her smile evaporated. She kept her eyes low as she went to the bathroom and pulled the door firmly shut behind her.

  
Confused and disappointed that the morning had turned sour so quickly, Theron got up and dressed, pulling on his tan slacks and shrugging into a thick grey shirt. “Oh, fuck,” he dropped his boot as he realized his faux pas. He rose and checked the handle of the bathroom door and found it locked: “Moxie?” he asked softly. “Just go away.” Her voice was uncharacteristically monotone. “I’m so sorry, love.” Theron leaned his head on the door and her only response was the hiss of the shower.

  
Theron took the long way through Rishi, meandering along the boardwalk. His heart ached for Moxie and he wanted nothing more than to make all her pain go away, but he knew that pain was part of what made her… her. Who would he be if he hadn’t learned to cope with being the first non-Force-sensitive in his family for generation upon generation? They each had heavy burdens to carry, but he wished he could make Moxara’s load a little lighter.

  
“Lover’s quarrel?” Lana asked offhandedly when he wandered into the office and went straight to his console. He didn’t look at her, but tapped his temple implants: “these things not working? Do I need to re-sync?” She walked over and sat on the edge of the desk, forcing herself into his line of sight. “You’re here alone for the first time in weeks, your hair is out of sorts, and if you scowl any harder, it will be a permanent fixture. What’s wrong?” “I fucked up,” he confessed, running his hands through his hair to tidy the dark locks. “I made a joke about being her love slave.” “Oh, Theron” Lana pinched the bridge of her nose. “I know, I know – I wasn’t thinking.” “She may be a powerful Sith Lord, but she’s still a woman with feelings, especially about her past.” “Oh, trust me, I know! I will make it up to her. I’ll figure something out. Right now, I just need to finish slicing the data from the Blades so we can get to the Revanite contact.” If Lana thought it would take more than good intel to patch things up, she kept it to herself.

  
He made good headway that day, glad to have something he could focus on – something he could fix. The Blades had a stronghold on a crashed ship called the Aggressor on a far island and their leader had returned to clean up the labor camp Mox had razed. The Blades’ main data center was on the Aggressor – that would be their next mark, where they could capture communications between the leader of the Blades and the Revanites. Lana and Theron mapped the routes and identified entry points, creating a plan to share with Mox. Skimming through communications Theron had discarded as irrelevant, she smiled and collected them on a datapad. Perhaps good intel would be the right solution. “Hey, we’ve done enough for the day. Take this. She’s at the cantina. Go make things right.” Taking the datapad and reading the contents, Theron smiled broadly. “Have I told you lately how wonderful you are?” he asked as he stood. “For a Sith?” she raised an eyebrow. “For a friend.” He grabbed his jacket and rushed off.

  
Moxara sat at the far end of the bar, hooded in the worn, light grey shawl she favored to conceal her Sith armor. The small cantina was dimly lit, even mid-afternoon, providing a cool reprieve from the stifling island humidity. She had a small cube the size of a betting die pinned against the bartop by the corners and spun it with a flick, watching it glow light blue then red, pulsing softly, then blending into purple as she spun it faster. “That’s beautiful.” Theron said softly as he took the seat next to her. Her eyes, dark blue in the low lighting, didn’t move from the cube. “My father gave it to me when I was taken. He told me it would glow when he was thinking of me. The thing is, I found out later, it’s a gemstone that will glow for a thousand years.” She pocketed it and took another sip of her drink, her eyes still hooded, before continuing. “I finally had clearance, a few years back, to look them up. My parents both died in that slave camp, the only notation by their names in the Sith records is regarding the potential of their only daughter to be Force-sensitive.”

  
With a heavy sigh, she put her hand on his and looked up at him. “I’m sorry, Theron. I don’t mean to be…“ “A brave, brilliant woman with a hard past?” he interrupted. “Moxie, you are a gift of the Force to the galaxy around you. Especially to me.” His voice was low and deep, and she blushed at his doting words. “But you don’t have to take my word for it – here.” He handed her the datapad. Knitting her brows quizzically, she began to flick through the comms. Message after message posted to public holonets thanking the strange Sith who had decimated the slave camp on Rishi. Prayers for her safety, entreaties for her to do the same on other planets, essays of gratitude from reunited families. A tear rolled down her cheek as she read on, overwhelmed with the outpouring of support. “You are the hope our galaxy needs, and I know you’ve only just begun.” Theron wiped away the tear and tenderly kissed her on the forehead. When they returned to her ship that night, he fell upon her with loving kisses, worshipping her body and soul. Words, responsible for parting and mending the love they shared, were no longer necessary.

  
They entered the office together the next morning and Lana arrived shortly after, hiding her relief that things were back to business as usual, or as much as they could be. Moxara was happy to hear Lana and Theron’s latest plan didn’t involve any disguises or shipping containers; she just had to get to the holotable within the Aggressor. Once Theron had access, they would have the communications being sent from the leader of the Blades to the Revanites. High in the hills of an island on the other side of Rishi, the base was designed to defend against spaceships, not a single infiltrator. If their calculations were correct, it would be a half-day of travel for her to get to the shore and another half-day to penetrate the perimeter of the facility. Disabling the generator to breach the main compound wall would be no easy task, but would buy her enough time to get to the holotable while guards were otherwise occupied.

  
“The base is primarily guarded by droids, but we have reports of Revanite Force-users – Jedi and Imperial traitors. You will have to be careful. Theron will go with you to the generator, then try to get to a comms tower while you work so he can upload data from the holotable in real time.” Lana indicated the drop point on the projected map above the holotable, then indicated through the path to the headquarters. “Per usual, I will man the comms from this base.” “Finally sending me into the field, eh?” Theron laughed, though Mox smiled uneasily. When they packed up their work at the end of the day, they headed straight for the cantina, all three eager to drink away some of their concerns for the coming mission.

  
In the grey light preceeding dawn, Lana watched Mox and Theron set off in the small rusty shuttle that would slip them onto the far side of the Revanite island. “May the Force ever serve you,” she intoned gravely, as they disappeared from the dock and faded into the early morning mist. Lana began the trek back to their office to manage the team’s communications. Moxara set the shuttle to autopilot and receded to the main sitting area where she knelt in meditation. Theron busied himself with his datapad, re-reading information they’d recovered in hopes of finding some hint to help him with the comms tower. He hated going in blind, but that seemed to be the new status quo.

  
Their landing was smooth and they cloaked the shuttle in a dark cove with easy access to the beachead. Theron gave Mox a quick kiss as they parted. “I’d wish you luck, but know you won’t need it,” he smiled, trying to laugh off the tension. “Be safe, Theron. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done. Hopefully you don’t get bored waiting.” Mox tightened the strap of her belt, brushed her fingers along her lightsaber, and pulled up the hood of her forest green cloak, hoping to blend into the jungle for as much of the approach as possible. Wearing only her lightest padding would make the long uphill trek to the compound easier, but left her far more exposed in combat. Theron watched as her small figure nimbly fade into the dense trees before heading for the comms tower.

  
The massive silver array of antennas was easy enough to locate, reaching far above the jungletop. Hopping the low fence surrounding the wide base, Theron looked around nervously – this was too convenient. The island was built to guard against spacecraft and not land threats, but shouldn’t there be some guard, he thought. He whispered into his commlink to Lana, “I’m here. It’s clear. Beginning to work now.” He crouched beside the main panel and began to unscrew it when she replied, “Don’t make it worse by putting up a fight.” “What?” he gasped. “They’re coming for you now. Let them. Get the intel from inside. Lana out.” Theron stood, trying to process what she said when he felt the taser hit the back of his neck. He dropped to the ground as the four Revanite patrolmen surrounded him. “Right where she said he’d be. Revan will be pleased. Let’s get him back for interrogation.” They hoisted Theron’s prone body between them and headed for the center of the base.

  
“Generator’s down – I’m through the outer wall. Heading for the central office now.” Mox whispered quickly to Lana. “I haven’t heard anything from Theron and it’s been hours – is he okay?” “He’ll be fine,” Lana pinched the bridge of her nose, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “Tell me when you’re at the holotable.” “Copy that. Mox out,” she confirmed the checkpoint was clear and proceeded to edge her way between buildings, keeping her dark cloak tight to her body. Two guards in crimson Revanite robes stood outside the door of the central office, each armed with a lightsaber - the Jedi traitors Lana had warned of. Mox resigned herself – there would be no sneaking past them, but at least one would have the entry codes. She leapt out at them, unleashing a torrent of purple lightning as she drew her lightsaber across the throat of the unsuspecting right guard. The second backed up, assessing her threat as he activated his weapon and exerted his own Force powers, shoving her back against the wall as he charged. She dove to the side, but his poor form made him unpredictable and the very tip of his red saber slashed through her thigh. Moxara cursed leaving her armor behind for the soft padding. On bent knee, she transferred her saber to her offhand and pulled her right hand up in fury, throwing a single sharp spike of lightning into the Revanite’s chest. He dropped his weapon and fell back into the entryway as he succumbed to death. 

Knowing that her violent advance wouldn’t go unnoticed despite the distraction of taking the main generator down, Moxara quickly searched his body, locating the small white deck that was the access pass and code device. She pressed it against the metal lockbox on the door and punched in the most recent code. As the thick door retracted, she slipped inside the cool, dark compound. “What are you doing here?” The Revanite soldier shouted as he backhanded Theron across the face. Theron shook his head and spat out blood, the same color as the soldier’s robes. “I told you. Vacation. Beautiful island, this time of…” he was interrupted by the crack of a vibrosword against his left arm. With his hands tied behind him, there was little he could do to defend himself, but he struggled to stay standing. “I mean, I was told I could get to meet Revan – old relative? Great great great…” He tried to laugh through the pain, his head aching from the taser and assault. “You do not speak the name of our lord who has shown us the way! We SHALL return the emperor to power in his name!” The soldier was young and proud. For all that he hated Lana with every fiber of his being for putting him in this situation, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. “So, you just got promoted to guard duty and don’t even know who your hostage is? I’m kind of a big deal.” The guard gave him another heavy backhand to the face, knocking him over into unconsciousness. The door slammed shut and Theron was alone. It was an hour before he could strain to open his eyes in the dim cell. Still bound, he surveyed his options: they had taken his comms and blasters, his implants were damaged beyond use, but they hadn’t bothered to remove his belt. Fumbling to sit up and angle his stiff shoulders, he groped the lining of his belt for the small metal shiv it concealed and began working on his restraints.

  
Pausing to sense for motion in the next hallway, Moxara gasped aloud, then frantically pressed her comms device, her voice breathy with a restrained whisper. “Lana! Lana! Theron is in the building! What happened? I can sense him and he’s hurt!” Lana’s voice was stoic as she stated facts without emotion: “He was captured at the comms tower. I didn’t want to worry you.” Mox dashed down the hallway, drawing her lightsaber through two Revanite soldiers from behind. “Despite your intentions, I AM worried.” Mox gritted her teeth and tried to keep her voice low as she dispatched a group of droids, frying their circuits with a rain of lightning. “You should be near the holotable…” Lana continued as Mox stopped in her tracks. From what she felt, Theron was at the far end of the building, awake but in pain. Her heart cried for her to go to him. “He would want you to get the job done.” Lana was right, even if it was no consolation. Mox drove her lightsaber through the lock and burst into the brightly lit communications room. She was faced with three Sith Revanites as they spoke to a hooded figure projected above the holotable.

  
“Kill Theron Shan. Son of the Grand Master he may be: useful he is not. Bring the Sith to me. She will be punished for interfering in my plans,” the deep, snarling voice emanated from the holotable and the Revanites rounded on her, chanting “Yes, Darth Arkous” in unison as the projection disappeared. Her purple lightsaber activated, Moxara crouched in preparation to attack, assessing her equally-armed foes. Three-to-one was not her favorite odds, especially if they were the trained Sith their stance and bright red lightsabers announced them to be. The compound’s alarm began to screech, casing Moxara to flinch. When her eyes flew open a millisecond later, one of the Revanites was falling backward, blaster smoke drifting up from his chest. Theron leaned in the doorway across from her, his right blaster extended in aim and his green eyes blazing with fury. Relief flooded through her, relaxing her muscles as she launched into battle with the two Revanites before they could turn on Theron. The distraction gave her the upper hand: they were no match for her lightning-fast blade.

  
“Lana said…” Moxara began when the room was cleared. “Not now,” Theron’s voice rasped. He holstered his blaster and his brow furrowed as he took over decrypting the holotable and sending the data back to headquarters. His left arm hung limp and blood was just barely clotting the gashes across his face. “My coms are trashed. Have Lana confirm receipt.” His voice was gruff and exhausted, his eyes lazy as he struggled to focus on the screen. Moxara conveyed the order through her commlink and Lana replied in kind: “Data extracted. Wipe it and get out of there.” Moxara was in a daze as Theron grabbed her hand and dragged her to a service tunnel. They stumbled through the darkening jungle down to the cloaked shuttle, where Moxara helped Theron into a seat and gave him a stimpak for the pain. After autopilot took over, she turned to him, “Theron?” He nodded at her in a daze, his eyes struggling to focus. Mox took a deep breath, “I don’t have telepathic powers; I studied the old ways of Sith powers – but I do know some healing. Your implants usually block me from…” “No,” he shook his head. She reached over and squeezed his right hand. “Lana set me up,” he rasped, before losing the fight with consciousness. She tucked his hand back across his chest and placed her fingers on his forehead, using her energy to relax his locked muscles and ease blood flow to his healing arm.

  
Theron had regained some energy by the time they returned to the office in the pre-dawn hours. The lights were on. Lana turned and rose from her desk, hearing the door close behind them. “How dare you,” Theron seethed, his fury opposite her calm, cool demeanor. “It was a good plan, Theron. It worked.” “I don’t give a wampa’s ass if it worked – you had me captured and tortured!” “It wouldn’t have worked if you knew…” “You don’t know that,” he spat. “I knew Moxara would save you,” Lana asserted, her hands firmly on her hips. “You damn Sith think you know everything in the galaxy!” His shoulders dropped with exhaustion and he turned to see Moxara’s blue eyes gazing at him sadly. He turned back on Lana: “You betrayed my trust.” His voice was low as he glared at her: “Arkous is leading the Revanites – they’re trying to bring back the Emperor. We’ll need to decrypt the rest.” Moxara finally spoke, mustering her strength after such an exhausting day: “Theron saved himself. I’m grateful we got the intel, Lana, but you owe him an apology. This isn’t how we work – we’re a team.” Lana sighed, reticent to admit she was wrong. “I’m sorry you were tortured. I won’t hide a strategy from you again.” Theron nodded curtly, acknowledging the lackluster apology, and took Moxara’s hand, eager to rest and recover.

  
Lana worked on the data alone the next day as Moxara treated Theron in her ship’s medbay. He’d been beaten badly, and while there was no permanent damage, it would take time for the burns and small fractures to heal, let alone repair the damage to his implants. “Please believe me, I had no idea until I sensed you in the building.” Moxara pleaded, redressing the small bandage on his temple. “I know you would never pull a stunt like that.” He winced and took her hand in his, pulling her into his lap. “And we did make a damn fine team taking down those Revanites.” Moxara kissed him gently on his unbandaged cheek and whispered into his neck, “I love having you at my side, but I prefer having you safe.” He held her tight, wrapping his splinted arm around her. “I think the cantina is pretty safe this time of day – how about we get some food and drinks while I enjoy these wonderful painkillers.” She laughed and stood, pulling him up with his good right arm. “I don’t know, those little drink umbrellas are pretty dangerous.” He rolled his deep green eyes and shoved her toward the door.


	7. Chapter 7

The tension in the safehouse office was thick and Theron refused to make eye contact with Lana, only speaking to her in terse statements. Despite his fury, or perhaps because of it, they made good headway on decrypting and parsing the data retrieved from the Revanite compound. Moxara had hauled a table under one of the more stable working lights at the back of the main room to clean weapons and her armor. Slicing was not her forte and it was a good excuse to divest Lana and Theron of lightsaber and blasters respectively – she felt a little better with neither of them armed. Getting the clay dust from the mines out of each crevace of her boots and each notch of armor was a tedious task, but she had always preferred to maintain her own equipment. The office was quiet but for the whirr of the overhead fan, the soft typing of Theron and Lana on their consoles, and an occasional squeak as Mox’s oiled rags worked through her pile of gear.

  
“Is this, is this what you’re reading?” Lana broke the tense silence as she swiped a report from her console screen to Theron’s. “Yup,” he confirmed. “Both Republic and Imperial fleets already headed to this Revanite base on Yavin Four, replete with embedded Revanite traitors.” Moxara looked up from the pile of oily rags, aghast: “They are walking into a deathtrap if they approach with compromised crews.” The newly cracked reports laid out the timelines of the traitor’s infiltrations, their code words to each other, and the consistent message of loyalty to the returning Emperor. “It seems they are prepared to compromise the defenses and armaments just prior to engaging with the Revanite fleet – it’s a suicide mission.” Even Lana’s voice quavered with shock. “We need to get this data to the fleet commanders,” Lana continued, “and I somehow doubt a casual comm from a banished spy will go over well.” Theron stood and began pacing around the room. “As much as I hate it – you’re right. I know Satele will see me, fun as that will be,” he grimaced at the last before looking over at Lana. “Can you get through to Darth Marr?” Lana pinched the bridge of her nose: “I maintained a few contacts after Manaan who owe me big favors – if they can get through to him, Marr will grant me an audience.”

  
“If we can’t get through, the Revanites will cause an all-out war between the Empire and Republic, disabling both fleets while they pursue this cursed ritual to return the Emperor to power.” Theron shook his head. “I need to look into this ritual,” Mox plotted next steps aloud, “and we need to think beyond just stopping the fleets from imploding above Yavin – we need to bring them together to crush the ground forces. We need to negotiate an alliance.” “That is a tall order,” Theron scowled, “but if we give them this intel and show the value of a coordinated attack, we may be able to win them over.” “Even Darth Marr doesn’t want the incorporeal Emperor to return,” Lana added. They agreed that Lana and Theron would reach out to their contacts and set up meetings with the fleet leaders, then patch them through to Mox, who would attempt to broker an agreement.

  
Moxara had the utmost confidence in Lana and Theron, but knew this plan would require great shows of faith from both sides. Hopefully, the intel would prevent either from an unprepared attack on Yavin Four with infiltrators aboard. The diplomacy that had allowed her to balance her tasks for the Empire without compromising her own moral code would be her greatest contribution. Moxara recorded a message and sent it with Lana and Theron as they parted. In her most formal Sith armor, she stood tall in the projected holo: “Grand Master Satele Shan and Dark Chancellor Darth Marr, I am Moxara, Darth Imperious, former member of the Dark Council. I come to you now as an independent citizen of our shared galaxy to discuss mutual threats and goals. My envoys have provided you with what I know to be invaluable information and I trust you understand the gravity of the threat before us. Darth Arkous has amassed an overwhelming force of Revanites on Yavin Four with the goal of reanimating the lost Emperor. Only together can we overpower him: we must put our war aside to end the threat to all of our civilizations. I beseech you to entreat with me, such that we may discuss an accord. May the Force be with you.” After they had left, she paced the office, frustrated that she could do no more until they responded. She returned to her ship to meditate before getting a fitful night’s sleep. She was plagued by visions of exploding starships. It was past noon on the next day when she received a holocom from Theron: Satele would be willing to discuss an alliance in a neutral location. Hours later, Lana relayed a similar message from Darth Marr. The Imperial and Republic delegations would come to Rishi in three standard days.

  
The tropical summer gave way to thunderstorms, and under the shroud of pouring rain, the delegations arrived, each party quietly entering under stealth shields. It was almost dusk when they were fully assembled around the holotable and introductions were made. To Moxara’s right stood the Republic representative: in heavy brown robes, Jedi Grand Master Satele wore her years gracefully, though her sun chapped skin and greying hair betrayed her age. She was flanked by three Jedi Consulars in the earth-tone robes of Jedi Masters. Theron stood a pace behind in a beige tunic over brown slacks and a long, dark-brown coat bedecked by gold-corded lapels and the insignia of the Republic Strategic Information Service. Opposite them, Darth Marr loomed over two meters tall, his face ensconced in a black metal mask and his body in heavy Sith armor. Two elite guards in blood red uniforms stood behind him, long staves firmly in hand. Lana looked small at Darth Marr’s right hand, the plain black tunic of her Imperial Security uniform seeming informal in comparison, despite her gleaming silver pauldrons and belt. Each member of the delegation carried the weight and duty of their office and had worn their formal attire to demonstrate their allegiance.

  
Moxara took a deep breath, admiring the contrast of this pretentious show of force under the humble circumstances of their surroundings. “I am honored by your presence and moreover your readiness to combine forces for the destruction of Arkous and his followers and the prevention of the Emperor’s resurgence.” She nodded her head to each party and opened her mouth to continue when the Jedi Master interrupted, raising her palm as she addressed the room: “Moxara, your intervention prevented certain destruction of both of our forces against the Revanite fleet, let alone their ground forces on Yavin Four. Thousands of our people owe their lives to your actions.” Nodding, Marr agreed: “Because of your efforts, the repulsive stench of mutiny, the treacherous Revanite spies, have been excised from our fleets,” his voice rasping thickly through his ventilated mask. “You have earned our gratitude and trust.”

  
Empowered by their mutual respect, Moxara stood just a touch taller. Placing her thinly-gloved hands firmly on the holotable and bringing up the rotating projection of Yavin Four, Moxara spoke softly, but firmly. “Only together will we be able to bring down the Revanite fleet and destroy the ground forces, preventing the completion of the ritual.” She paused to gauge their reactions and was surprised when both parties waited for her to continue. “I entreat you to sign a formal temporary cessation of war as we wage a combined attack on Yavin Four, as equals.” Darth Marr waved his right hand before Lana, eliciting her to speak, a stark contrast to Satele’s relegation of her staff to the back of the room. “We propose,” Lana began, her tone controlled and even, “electing Moxara the Commander of the allied forces, removing any doubt of our intent to disavow this treatise.” Master Satele’s eyes narrowed: “our agent was responsible for discovering the location of the Revanite base,” she gestured offhandedly at Theron, “but we concede the need for neutral leadership, so long as she is truly no longer under the rule of the Empire. The Republic forces will defer to your authority, Commander.” Moxara bowed to each in turn. “I am honored. We will see this through, as an alliance.” The agreement was ratified and parties began to organize transit back to their fleets. They agreed to conduct the next stages of planning via holo as they flew to Yavin Four.

  
If Moxara had been shocked to see Theron in full SIS regalia, she was aghast when he avoided eye contact with her and followed the Jedi delegation as they left the safehouse. When he’d expressed discomfort at returning to the Republic to elicit their support, surely, he hadn’t meant a full return in favor of their partnership or a disavowal of their love. While the Republic delegation filed out to their shuttles and the Imperials spoke into their comms to coordinate trips back to their fleet, Lana quietly approached Moxara. “Congratulations, Commander. You have effectively taken control of the Empire as well as Republic Forces.” Moxara shook her head, still absorbing this new responsibility, “It’s temporary.” “Remember when we first met on the Fleet, almost two years ago? It’s coming to fruition, Moxara. May the Force ever serve you.” Lana gave a sincere smile as she fell into line behind the Imperial attaché, leaving Moxara alone with too many worries. She took her time closing down the safehouse before heading to the docking bay.

  
Theron sat on the entry ramp of her ship, his formal coat lumped in a heap at his side and his head in his hands. The pouring rain had muffled Moxara’s steps and he was surprised to find her standing before him. He slowly rose, gripping the balled-up fabric with both hands. “This is the price I had to pay,” he explained, his voice low and pained. She reached out a hand to touch his face, the marks of his torture still visible, but her hand fell to her side as a tear rolled down her cheek. “What price?” She whispered, looking up into his deep green eyes. “Ensuring you win. Giving you what I promised: keeping you safe. They wouldn’t have come if I didn’t dedicate myself as a Republic asset.” With a fierce scowl, she grabbed the coat from his grip, flung it to the ground, and launched herself at him. He took a step back as he absorbed the full force of her embrace in layers of sharp metal armor, then relaxed, running his hand along her scalp. He kissed her softly on the forehead, as her swearing was muffled in his chest. “That’s not fair – you shouldn’t have to go with them. Why can’t you remain neutral like me?” She knew her words sounded childish, but she was furious – he was not a bargaining chip. Tilting her head back to stare deeply into her eyes, he husked, “we leave tomorrow. I told them I needed to wipe the remaining systems in the office. I want to be with you tonight.” Moxara nodded softly before pulling away, then knelt to grab his coat before boarding her ship with his hand firmly in hers.

  
When they entered the open lounge area in the center of her ship, Moxara released her heavy pauldrons and cape: “Looks like I’ll be forced to wear formal armor more often, now.” She laughed uneasily and sat to unstrap her heavy knee-high boots. Theron headed to the small kitchen and returned with two glasses of wine, handing her one as she flung the second boot aside. “Commander.” His green eyes were soft and anxious as he looked down at her. She glanced at the door to her quarters, the delineating point they had agreed upon so many months ago, then smiled back up at him and clinked her glass against his. “To dressing the part.” They both drank deeply and she gestured for him to sit next to her, then tucked herself into the crook of his arm. “So, ‘her Agent,’ eh?” Without looking up at him, she sensed his eyes roll as he grumbled: “seriously, that was…” Mox laughed, snuggled up against him. “She really wants you under her thumb.” “I’m not sure it’s that, so much as her wanting to control SIS and I’m an easy way for her to do that.” He pulled her legs up over his lap, turning her to face him. “But I’d really rather not talk about my mother tonight.”

  
They finished their wine and retreated to her quarters, eagerly shedding their remaining clothing in the familiar room. Moxara grabbed his hand as she fell back onto the bed, pulling him on top of her, and he eagerly dove onto her lips, driving his tongue around hers to possess her mouth. Her fingers clenched into his shoulders as he reached down and parted her thighs, his fingers nudging her open. Mox felt her mind fragment, torn between her visceral love for Theron, her body’s pure reaction to his every touch, and overthinking the inevitable future. He massaged her swollen clit and began to dip his fingers inside her, eagerly driving her to orgasm as she shuddered, clinging her body to his. In the darkness, her eyes flew open and she cried out, her heart torn between the perfection of this moment and the heartbreak of tomorrow’s separation. Mistaking her moan for pure pleasure, he covered her mouth with his, kissing her deeply as he began to thrust himself into her, desperately making love for what he expected to be the last time. They fell apart in the darkness, soaked with sweat and hidden tears.

  
Moxara awoke the next morning when the lights in her quarters grew bright. She was very much alone in her bed. Her holopad on the nightstand blinked to alert her of new messages and she rolled over to grab it.

  
Moxie -  
I’ll see you on Yavin. I love you.  
-Theron  
She pressed it to her heart and sighed heavily, allowing herself a reprieve of weakness before she navigated her starship to Yavin Four.


	8. Chapter 8

The starships, cruisers, and fighters of both Imperial and Republic fleets waged a coordinated attack on the Revanites above Yavin Four, closing in on hemispheres of the moon to crush the unsuspecting tyrants. The intel provided by Moxara’s team proved deadly: Darth Marr made a point of torturing information from the traitors hidden aboard his fleet, prying out their methods and mechanisms, even a ground map of the main island below. He had passed this data to Master Satele and the Republic fleet, who had accepted the intel, though disposed of their own traitors in a slightly more humane manner: they had been unceremoniously discarded out the airlock. Once the airspace over the main continent of Yavin Four was cleared, they began to settle a base of operations.

  
When Moxara’s ship dropped out of hyperspace near the fourth moon of Yavin, the myriad detritus of the battle was abundant. Remnants of Revanite, Imperial, and Republic ships floated above the moon; she was surprised pirates hadn’t yet descended to scavenge parts. Reports from the newly forged alliance kept her appraised of the progress as they had cleared out the Revanite fleet, acknowledging minimal losses as they forged the path to land on the central continent and began to set up a base of operations. Moxara shook her head and cringed at the vast quantity of waste. The fragments of ships – ships full once full of living beings with beating hearts – now floating idly, waiting to be caught in orbit and pulled to further wreckage upon the moon’s surface. The thought frightened Moxara: were they all being pulled toward a destructive fate? Navigating to the makeshift landing pad on the outskirts of the base, he steeled herself for impact.

  
Dusk had fallen on the thick jungle when Moxara descended down her ship’s ramp. Her heavy grey cloak covered her armor and fended off the evening’s chill while she tapped her datapad to contact the main camp. The striking difference between the stifling hot jungle of Rishi the frigid growth of Yavin Four was not lost on her. She had barely stepped off the platform when approached by a motley group: two Jedi Consulars in heavy brown robes and two Imperial troopers bedecked in black armor followed Lana and Theron. Unaccustomed to acting as a procession, their footsteps landed asynchronously, making them sound noisier than the small party of six they were. “Commander,” Lana bowed lightly, her sharp yellow eyes never dropped from Moxara’s deep blue irises. Theron stepped forward and gave a curt nod, his voice a mere croak as he extended both hands: “Commander; on behalf of the Alliance, I present your mark of office.” Between his soft, brown, leather-gloves, he held out cords: blue and red threads had been spun together into two heavy purple cords - one side carried a small metal sigil, fusing halves of the Republic and Empire symbols as one round whole. Her eyes locked with his as she remembered showing him her beloved gem from her father – had it been Theron’s idea to incorporate the same concept of light and dark as one in this device? Moxara took the cords with one gloved hand, biting back her distaste for such formalities, and wound it into a spiral before thrusting it into her pocket. Why present her with titles in secret, symbols of stature in private? She would eventually have to prove herself worthy of the icons of her status. Theron flinched and fell in behind the Consulars, disgusted by the job he had been tasked with and how low it made him. His glowering look at Moxara only evoked pity as she tried to convey her empathy, knowing it was not a position he chose. They both suffered under the inability to express their struggle in balancing role and self. Lana broke the strained silence: “Your tent has been prepared, Commander. The representatives will meet you in the war room tomorrow morning.” “Thank you, Lana. Please have a detail bring the contents of cargo bay 3 to my quarters.” Moxara kept her shoulders back and fell in step alongside her longtime comrade. Lana nodded to the two troopers, who quickly passed them and headed into Mox’s ship. “The base is this way, if you will follow this path.” Lana cast a dim light before them from her hand and proceeded through the thick growth.

  
The camp was composed of rows of large tents alongside beacon-lit paths. Sentries divided by allegiance patrolled quietly as the evening chatter fell away, tents going dark as units went to sleep. Lana led Mox on a roundabout path, pointing out where the war room tent had been erected, meals served, medics coordinated, and her own quarters before bringing her to a large tent at the back. “I trusted you would appreciate more privacy.” Lana’s clipped tone softened. “Your things will have been delivered by now. I will see you tomorrow – oh seven hundred, per usual?” Only then did Moxara notice the Consular attaché and Theron had departed. “Thank you, Lana – if there’s anything you need, come directly to me,” Mox placed her hand on Lana’s arm. “I wouldn’t be here without you and I will need your wits and lightsaber at my side to see it through.” Lana smiled, “Get some sleep. Tomorrow will be… interesting.” Mox slipped into her tent and found a small sitting area with a desk and benches, as well as her stack of personal crates from her ship. A flap of fabric separated a sleeping area with a cot and small water recycler. With no hookups and no timeline for when they would be leaving Yavin Four, she couldn’t risk wasting her ship’s resources. After unpacking some key necessities, she fell into her camp bed, eager to put a good night of sleep between now and tomorrow’s first war council meeting.

  
“Excuse me, Commander? Permission to enter?” a young man’s voice called out from the path outside her tent. Still in her sleepwear, Moxara stuck her head out into the harsh dawn light, knowing it was only six – she wasn’t expected at the war room tent for an hour. “What is it?” she tried to hide the grogginess in her voice. The Republic soldier extended a large, fabric-wrapped bundle to her. “A gift from the Republic Diplomatic Organization.” He nodded curtly as she took it and left down the small path. She laid the bundle on her desk and unwrapped the cord, exposing more fabric. On top was a beautifully crafted chest piece: designed in the Sith style, it was black with a high neck and long sleeves, well-padded in the shoulders, forearms, and chest - places her armor would be braced against her. The wrists and collar were adorned with a dark purple trim. Beneath the top were similarly-designed slacks, the same black synthwoven fabric with purple trim down the sides and padding at hips and thighs. Moxara admired the craftsmanship and discovered a smaller wrapped package at the bottom: black woven gloves with protective leather padding on the back. Enjoying the fruits of her new title for once, she pulled on the new clothing and sat on the bench to buckle up her knee-high boots. She never considered herself vain, but did wish for a mirror to admire the effect: she felt sleek and powerful as she strapped her steel plate armor over her chest, thighs, and forearms.

  
“Commander Moxara, Sir.” A clipped Imperial voice rang out from outside her tent. She pulled back the flap to find two Imperial troopers bearing a plastisteel crate between them. “The Imperial Diplomatic Service wishes to convey its regards.” Moxara pulled the tent flap back further and indicated for them to place it on the bench. “Thank you; dismissed.” They saluted her and marched off into the rapidly brightening morning. Maybe politicians weren’t all bad, Mox thought as she unhinged the lid of the box. Nestled in foam were two dark silvery pauldrons in the Jedi design: rounded cups, crafted with a simple border and stripe down the middle, they were a stark contrast to the elongated and spiked style favored by the Sith elite. She picked one up and turned it over. The black leather straps fell away and she held back a gasp as she processed the marking forged into the metal: a Mandalorian symbol. These were beskar steel and worth a small fortune. Another layer of foam revealed a black leather belt with a metal clasp and holster for her lightsaber. She strapped on her new armor and approved of the fit as well as the message: both Imperial and Republic delegations had acknowledged her dedication to represent each side. It was a good start. She attached her long black cape to the back of her new pauldrons and slid her lightsaber into the holster on her right hip. By affixing the purple cord with the split-logo device across her chest, she knew she at least looked the part of an Alliance Commander; now she just had to deliver on the promise. With her head high, she strode out of her tent toward the war room.

  
Following the path that had been carved through the jungle, she surveyed the hastily-erected camp, taking mental notes. There was so much to do before they could launch a war on the Revanites and take down Arkous. Beneath the forest’s overgrowth, the Imperial and Republic tents were clearly divided by a long path, and each had erected banners to display their loyalties. Moxara shook her head – the forces would be crippling each other until they learned to act as one. Separate mess tents and medical tents, arms caches and communication towers demonstrated how little either side wanted to breathe the same air, let alone perform as one military. Mox shook her head: what an inefficient waste.

  
She entered the large tent to find the war council surrounding a large holotable, just as they had during the accord talks on Rishi, but flanked with additional aides and soldiers. Lana stood at Darth Marr’s right hand, backed by eight dark-uniformed enlisted men and women standing in two tight rows. Grand Master Satele Shan stood alone at the table, with two troopers, three Jedi Consulars, and two SIS agents, including Theron, backed against the wall. Mox paused as the entire room bowed as one and nodded gravely in return. “I am proud to be the commander of this alliance and will do everything in my power to see us succeed as one. This brings me to the first order of business: we must begin to act as a unified operation: I want a single perimeter report, communications report, and strategy review each day and the teams that represent them will be blended, Empire and Republic together. Am I clear?” There were murmurings from the group of Republic troopers and the Imperial attaché. Darth Marr raised his hand and turned to face his underlings: “You will follow the Commander as you follow me: without question.” His deep baritone boomed through the ventilated mask he wore as his red irises stared down his subordinates. They quickly snapped to attention and nodded silently. Mox saw the Consulars exchange guarded glances behind Satele and was curious as to her management of their less-strict hierarchy. “If we are in accord, I would like to begin with a status report. What have we discovered thus far?”

  
Satele waved her hand over the holotable, indicating the projection of topography: two large temples stood deep in a flat valley surrounded by mountains. “Preliminary scouting reports show limited signs of communications outside the central Revanite base in this valley, ten klicks from here. Whatever they are doing to bring back the Emperor, it is centered within. Our scouts were able to confirm this much, but cannot press further without an organized attack. We are past the point of stealth.” Moxara placed her black-gloved hands firmly on the edge of the table. “Agreed, Master Satele; now is the time for action. First, we need unified communications. Lana – your area of expertise?” Lana smiled, “Yes, Commander. Master Satele – if you will send your team to me, we will begin aggregating our links and frequencies to ensure they work across blended teams.” Satele nodded. “Second, we need coordinated military units – we must make the most of Imperial and Republic forces,” Mox continued. Satele spoke: “I propose you allow Havoc Squad, my most elite troopers, to organize the merging of our ground troops.” She waved forward the two soldiers behind her and they stepped up to the holotable, removing their white plastisteel helmets. “Major Zax and Lieutenant Elara at your service, Commander.” Zax’s sandy brown hair fell into his eyes and a long scar traced from the center of his forehead across to his left jaw. Mox couldn’t help but think the scar added rather than detracted from his attractiveness. “I will begin the organizational reports immediately,” the tall blonde soldier beside him added. Mox was surprised to hear Elara speak with an Imperial accent and even more so to sense a deep relationship between the two – there was no question they were more than just squadmates.

  
Darth Marr crossed his arms and spoke, his voice breathy through his ventilated mask: “I trust you will oversee the strategy yourself, Commander?” Moxara gave him a small smile, “This leads us to the third objective, and I do like a hands-on approach. It will be much easier to organize if we are all transparent – no secrets or spies. We will convene here to organize our plan of attack and ensure we are lock-step.” Her eyes darted to Theron for the briefest of moments but he avoided her gaze. “I couldn’t agree more,” Satele nodded. “The SIS has no place in this operation.” She turned to the two agents: “you are dismissed. Report back to Carrick Station on the next shuttle.” Theron’s eyes opened in shock, but he remained silent as he filed out of the tent with his teammate.

  
They spent the next hour planning review schedules. The Consulars and Imperial attaché drifted out of the room as they were assigned tasks, eventually leaving only Satele, Marr, and Mox. “This was a great start.” Mox affirmed, “and I thank you both for your dedication.” “Your leadership experience is invaluable, but I must provide a word of caution when dealing with the Republic troops. They are not like your Imperial forces and tend to work better with broader objectives, rather than specific orders. You may, of course, use that information as you see fit. I will return for the next briefing.” Satele gave a small bow to Mox and left the tent. Marr stepped around the table to face Moxara. “You are a strange one, but you are Sith. You have great power – bend it to your victory. Do not wear the chains of others.” His deep booming voice was solemn. He walked out of the tent, leaving Moxara to ponder his words. While her family history was public in Sith records – it’s how she had been identified as Force-sensitive and made an acolyte – she worried he could see through her, sense her love for Theron that was more than Sith passion. With Satele sending him away, she didn’t know what the future held for them.

  
The rest of the day was a blur as she went from tent to tent, introducing herself to teams, making notes of potential strengths and weaknesses. The sun was beginning to set when she felt a soothing wave through the Force from a nearby enclave, no more than half a klick from the main camp. She entered the clearing to find eight Jedi, including the Grand Master, in meditation, each seated silently as they were alone in their selves and one with the Force. Without turning around, Satele raised a hand and gestured to a spot next to herself. Moxara joined in gladly, quietly falling into the practice that connected her to her power. When the group stood and broke apart an hour later, the Jedi shared soft smiles of understanding and filed toward the newly-combined mess for the evening meal. Beneath the beacons that lit the large tent, Mox appraised the long tables and benches filled with the Alliance members. She grabbed a tray of rations and slid into a bench next to four Republic troopers who were deeply engrossed in discussion of their last mission to Quesh. “Ugh, I hope you didn’t react as poorly to the vaccination as I did,” Mox interjected. The group, composed of a dark green Twi’lek woman, two deeply-tanned human men, and a pale blue Chiss man paused before laughing. The Chiss hung his head and the Twi’lek slapped him on the shoulder. “This one was puking for three days straight.” “The gas in those mines in no joke – a good reminder to keep our eyes out for environmental hazards here,” one of the humans added sagely. Mox gave a small gasp as a vision overwhelmed her, an armor-clad trooper deep in a cave suddenly engulfed by red gasses. She dismissed it as an idle worry and rejoined the banter of the soldiers before heading back to her tent.

  
“I can sense you, you know.” Moxara’s voice was low and she didn’t turn around, but continued into her tent, turning the beacon on to light up the main area. Theron ducked in behind her and adjusted the doorway flap to ensure it was sealed. She stood at the desk, her back to him. “Why have you been avoiding me?” With the only beacon set before her, the shadow of her small frame was thrown against the tent wall. Theron admired the effect of the magnified relief that accurately reflected Moxie’s capabilities and shook his head, struggling to speak. When she turned to face him, her features were composed, her blue eyes dark: “She made you present me with the cord to enforce your place. Does she know we are…?” She couldn’t bring herself to say Satele’s name, the woman who had relegated her own son and Moxie’s strong, clever comrade and lover to a mere political puppet and now ordered off planet entirely. His brow furrowed with embarrassment as he nodded, “She and the Council did not believe I discovered the intel alone. I told you I would do everything in my power to protect you; telling them the truth about you, including our… us… was a requirement. As was giving that up.” Her face was tight with ferocity, her black-gloved hands balled in fists as she took a step toward him. “But I don’t want to give that up. This is temporary…”

  
“This is bigger than us, Mox…” he stopped himself from using her pet name and swallowed hard. He took a step to the side, putting a bench between them, and tugged his long brown jacket down by the lapels, gripping the fabric to keep his hands steady. “My serving the SIS and the Jedi Council is the best place for me.” “I don’t believe that,” she spat. “And I’ll be damned if you do. I can’t do this without you at my side.” “Yes, you can. You have advisors and armies from both sides at your disposal.” He gritted his teeth to keep his voice calm and steady. “And I’m sure Darth Marr won’t impose the same restrictions on relations as the Jedi – the Imperial men will be licking your boots, if the Republic soldiers don’t get there first. You seemed to be getting along well in the mess.” Her arm whipped around in front of her in fury, throwing a Force-push that slammed him against her stacked crates. “That was low, Theron.” She growled, through bared teeth. He straightened his jacket as he recovered from the shock of the sudden attack: “As am I: we both know I’m beneath you, Commander. A non-Force using bastard son? A mere SIS agent? It’s inappropriate. The Grand Master is right to send me away.” She wrung her hands tightly, holding herself back from unleashing another accidental attack. “You either think far too little or far too much of me if you think birth or rank have anything to do with how I feel about you.” He was running out of energy to fight her, his voice beginning to croak. “Moxara, whatever we had on Rishi is over. I don’t love you. I never did. Now that I’m back in the SIS, I have to be serious about my career and my relationships.” Her head buzzed and her body went weak with the realization that she was just a fun distraction, a notch on his belt during a gap in his career. “Oh.” The syllable escaped her with the thinnest breath, her head sinking down to her chest. When she looked up again, it was only to see the flap of the tent closing behind him. Despite being surrounded by an entire Alliance at her command, she felt very much alone.

  
On the walk back to the shuttle that would take him away from Yavin, Theron struggled to free his mind of the vision of Moxie so distraught, and at his hand. When he’d joined the SIS at eighteen, Theron knew he’d be put in positions to lie, but lying to Moxie cut through his heart. Seeing her enter the war council in the regalia of an Alliance Commander, watching Darth Marr and the Grand Master defer to her, he realized he was of no value. Just as his mother had abandoned him to the Jedi when he was born, just as the Jedi had abandoned him to the Republic when he had no Force-sensitivity, now he was cast out of the Alliance. He hoped the one deep truth, that he would do whatever was possible to protect her – would stay with her. He would win her back, when he was worthy, he promised himself. When the time was right. Until then, he would love her from afar.


	9. Chapter 9

After the war council retired the next morning, Moxara ushered Zax and Elara into the prep area of her tent. “At ease.” The two fell into slightly less stiff positions before following her to a bench around a small holoprojector on her desk, sitting across from her. “So how long have you two been together?” Mox asked, nonchalantly. Elara’s face lit up with a smile, “We just celebrated our two-year anniversary, actually.” Zax coughed uneasily into his hand, “Havoc squad has been functioning as a unit for five years now, Commander.” “Oh, don’t be like that, Zax,” Elara thwacked him on the arm with the back of her armored hand. “It’s no secret. I filed the proper forms and registered our relationship according to protocol FPR-834…” Zax interrupted her, “Forgive her, Commander – she likes to do things by the book. Old Empire habit.” Moxara smiled as her earlier suspicion of Elara’s accent was confirmed – the Republic Lieutenant was an Imperial deserter. Elara spoke on her own behalf: “I’d been with the Empire two years and could not abide by the corruption and slavery. Despite a long family history of serving, I broke my ties and surrendered to the first Republic division I found.” Elara’s eyes betrayed the significance of losing her family. “But I’ve worked hard to earn a place among Havoc.” “She’s the best medic I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been a soldier my whole career.” Zax gave his wife a pat on the shoulder. Moxara smiled at the two, liking this strange pair, “Congratulations on the anniversary. I hope you had something better than field rations to celebrate.” Zax laughed, his armor clacking as he wrapped an arm around his wife, “I promised her a real vacation when this operation is done. But this, now, is about what you need, Commander – how can we help?” His grey eyes were sincere as he pulled out his holopad to record any orders. Mox could see how Elara had fallen for him – he could charm the pants off a Wookie.

  
They began pouring over the topographic map of Yavin projected before them. “I think three teams of five.” Moxara pointed to a narrow crevasse that would grant them access to the Revanite valley. “If we can clear entry and exit points for a larger main squad, they can follow to set up a forward base camp at the entry of the valley. From there we can begin using squads to target the Revanites, hopefully picking them off before they know the size of our presence. Satele was right that this isn’t the time for stealth, but I don’t want to waste a single soldier: this is where I will rely on you two.” Zax nodded in agreement, “since we don’t have good intel on the size or times of their patrol rotations, let alone any other threats in the jungle – sentient or otherwise – fives are good squads for guerilla fighting. Elara and I can begin prepping the blended teams over the next few days and make recommendations for unit officers.” Mox stood and the two soldiers followed suit out of habit, deferring to their CO. “I will provide morning reports, if that is sufficient, Commander?” Elara asked. “Perfect. Dismissed.” They left her tent and she turned off the holoprojector before heading to the comms tent to check on Lana’s progress.

  
“We should be able to increase the range if we use this bandwidth without diminishing signal strength.” Lana was seated at small console with two datapads and a heap of comms devices in front of her and uniformed Republic and Imperial communications experts surrounding her. “But ma’am, do we have to…” “No,” Lana interrupted the Republic agent, as she tucked her short blonde hair back behind her ear. “We can retain the same equipment in both units, after we complete the configuration and sync them.” “Well, I’ll be damned.” Moxara kept her distance to appreciate the exchange of experts-turned-colleagues. Lana, however, would never let her get away with being a mere observer. She spun her chair and stood to face Moxara, giving a slight bow from her seated position. “Commander. Would you like a report on our progress or?” Moxara stood in the open tent’s entryway and waved her off. “I trust you. We will touch base at tomorrow’s council meeting. It sounds like you’re making good progress.” The team assembled around Lana shared a look of awe at the familiarity between the two women as they struggled to attention. “As you were, team. We’re going to need eighteen comms for our first expedition, five per squad and spares. I’d like to test them in three days when the units are assembled. Doable?” “Yes, Commander,” Lana nodded with a slight smile. “At this rate, we’ll have all your units outfitted by the end of the week. “Brilliant. Per usual, contact me if you need anything.” Mox turned on her heel and left them to their work. She could sense the sigh of relief from the enlisted men as she left the tent – she was grateful they took her title seriously enough to have heightened stress when she was present, but hoped to earn their trust and respect over time.

  
Continuing her progress through the encampment, Mox met with resource officers, confirming the water supply and rations quantities were stable. She found the tent of resource engineers divided down the middle, Republic and Imperial working quietly at separate consoles with their backs to each other. One of the four Imperial men spotted her first and stood to address her with a sharp salute, “Commander. Would you like a report on water reclamation rates?” The Republic team slowly stood, knowing any outward defiance would be reported to Satele, but the cloud of their distrust was as clear as day. “Yes. I trust by now we have benchmarks for the requirements of the entire camp?” The young engineer seemed delighted at her interest in the data and pulled up the numbers on his datapad. After reviewing reports from each half of the team, she reminded them that they needed to work as a single unit. Her suggestion to the Republic engineers that they adopt the more-efficient Imperial water recycling units did not go over well with their head engineer. “I’ve been in resource engineering longer than you’ve been alive!” The old Ugnaut may have looked frail when she first arrived, but was feisty when antagonized. “I’m not doubting your experience, merely suggesting further adaptability. I highly doubt you would deprive the men you serve of the best technology you can access.” Moxara kept her tone even. “Furthermore, I may be young, but am old enough to know the difference between age and wisdom.” The head engineer scowled, his pointed features drawing even tighter, and grumbled some form of assent as the two junior engineers behind him bore holes in their shoes with their eyes. “Have a report sent to the council in two days’ time,” her blue eyes were sharp as she stared down the Ugnaut. “One report. As you were.” Moxara took a deep breath after leaving their tent. She knew there would be reticence from some teams to work together, but surely the damned engineers would prioritize logic. She was fearful the situation would be worse when she got to the armory: the typically large, brutish men who maintained and distributed the weapons and gear for the soldiers were not known for their compassion and spirit of comradery.

  
True to her prediction, she was greeted at the arms depot by a dark, muscular Republic man who rivaled Darth Marr in height. “Hey there, little lady! Major Delt, at your service.” His tone was jovial, if ridiculously casual. Caught off guard, she gave him a skeptical look: “I’ve come to survey the progress of combining our munitions.” An equally large Twi’lek came up behind him, “Commander! I trust your armor is in top-notch condition – takes more than a blaster shot to ding Beskar.” Two Imperial officers, older women in sharp dark blue uniforms approached and saluted. “Commander, we apologize on behalf of our cohort. Delt and Trin do not adhere…” “At ease.” Moxara interrupted them. “Sargent Iovan and Buna, Imperial Arms.” The first woman introduced them, then gave a broad smile. “We are in very good shape – your soldiers will not be left wanting.” “That is very good to hear. Is it the four of you in charge?” Moxara followed them to the makeshift table and benches they had organized from plastisteel crates. Iovan nodded, “Yes, Sir, but we have completed the aggregate report on our resources and identified gaps to address – the Republic soldiers were sorely under-equipped with frag grenades.” Trin interrupted her, “and the Imps here didn’t have a weapons specialist – yours truly is expert in lightsabers, so if you have any Jedi – or Sith,” he caught himself, “needing a tuning, I’m at your disposal.” Delt chimed in: “you’ve got the men, we’ve got the gear. Just tell us what you need.”

  
Moxara’s trepidation regarding the arms collaboration dissipated and she launched into a description of the first troop movement. “We will make a first push on the temple in approximately five standard days: three units totaling fifteen men followed by a large platoon to set up a forward camp. I will rely on you to ensure they are kitted and the camp can be defended. I need the teams to be mobile – the first leg is ten klicks and I can’t have them tired when they arrive, but I don’t want to give away any element of surprise we retain.” Mox watched as Delt tapped away on his holopad, the device small in his large hands. “Got it: we’ll schedule a gear inspection once the units are assigned. Buna – we have enough speeders to get the first group out, then use trawlers to haul in the base?” he looked up at Mox, “Unless you want them coming in on these ladies’ ST-AT’s, guns blazing? Throw a Jedi on top of each one?” Mox couldn’t help but laugh at the image of the large, awkward Imperial tanks that sacrificed stability for height trying to navigate the uneven jungle. “Probably best to leave those here, for now.” Buna agreed with a smirk. “But speeders we have aplenty – just reach out if any Pub soldiers need training and I’ll set them up.” Mox nodded: “Good call – I will bounce that off Zax, who is beginning to organize our units as we speak.” She stood, pleased with the progress and knowledge that this team wouldn’t present any barriers to the success of the mission. “Thank you for setting the example of collaboration – we’re going to need plenty of it to get through this in one piece.” She left the team to their work, wishing the resource engineers shared the same attitude.

  
The day had gone by quickly and dusk fell as Mox grabbed a ration box from the mess and retreated to her tent. She still needed to address the units of Force-users and decide how to incorporate them in the offensive maneuver, thank the diplomatic corps properly for her gifts, and work with Marr and Satele to learn everything she could about the Revanite’s ritual. Her mind drifted as she wished for Theron’s arms around her, whispering into her ear that she could do this, that she wasn’t alone, that he loved her. The illusion gone, she shook her head angrily. He’d never loved her and she didn’t need him. “Commander?” Lana let herself into the tent. “If the food is not to your liking, I can try to procure.” Mox looked up at her, rolling her eyes. “Well, you were giving it a death glare.” “The rations are fine – I will eat what my soldiers eat.” Lana sat on the bench across from her and set a bottle and two small glasses on the table pouring a generous portion for each. “Perhaps, but the Commander doesn’t have to drink the swill they drink.” They clinked glasses and shared a sip of the dark brandy in silence. “Thank you, Lana.” Mox relaxed in the comfort of her friend. “Remember when we first spoke in the fleet cantina? How you would take over the Empire and bring the galaxy together?” “Ah, the dreams of youth,” Mox sighed. “No,” Lana shook her head. “You are doing it. You just need to remember; you can’t do it all in one day. I noticed you running around today, trying to manage every aspect of the Alliance – once you have good leaders, you can delegate more. Perhaps a scribe to assist you in the meantime?” “That’s a splendid idea, Lana. I’ll take up a padawan while I’m at it.” Mox had used all her composure dealing with strangers today and unleashed her snarky skepticism upon Lana. “The effort of training a padawan is the last thing I need, and I passed the younger Sith today – they’re practically feral.” Lana smiled knowingly, “I will make some inquiries tomorrow after the council meeting.

  
Mox took a long pull of her drink, grateful for the familiar warmth. “You brought the comms team together so quickly – how?” “People like to feel useful and have a place. I gave them each a task, acknowledged their input, whether it was useful or not, and encouraged them.” Mox’s mind wandered back to Theron, Satele calling him unnecessary at the very first war council. “I’m sorry he’s gone, Mox. He was a good friend to me, and I know you two…” Lana reached for words she couldn’t find. “He said he never loved me, Lana. I’m not just blaming Satele for his leaving. He made a choice.” Mox stared into her drink, grateful to discuss what happened. “Then he’s a bigger fool than I could have imagined.” Lana shook her head. “I overheard some of the soldiers today; they want to petition you for a base cantina. Might be an opportunity to have some fun?” Mox looked up at her, self-pity fading, “They will need to earn that privilege. I’m not against the idea,” she raised her glass in solidarity, “but I need them to know the job comes first. We have a lot of work to do.” “Then I will take my leave. I will see you tomorrow, Commander.” Mox marveled at Lana’s ability to switch between friend and subordinate with no discomfort – one of Lana’s many skills she admired.

  
The next morning’s war council was lengthy. While the reports from the various groups were aggregated for Mox to review on her holopad at her leisure, there was much to discuss. “As to the ritual,” Darth Marr’s breathy, deep voice rose, “I have organized three of my researchers to focus all their attention on what the Revanite’s could do.” “Your archives are far more extensive than ours, particularly on this subject,” Satele conceded. “But if you need resources, my Consulars can assist.” Marr nodded, “I believe we can manage for now, while we do not have a hard and fast timeline.” “I set expectations for ground troops to be able to deploy in four standard days from now,” Mox replied. “Whether we decide to go or not at that time, I want us ready sooner rather than later. I’m going to inspect the progress with the new blended units this afternoon – we will see how Zax and Elara have fared.” She took a breath before continuing. “This brings us to the matter of the Force users. If any have combat experience, they should begin training with the units as soon as possible, and if they have other, more specialized skills, we should take advantage of those.” Moxara was being purposely vague about the skills of Sith – some practices were sacred and to be kept secret – and she assumed the same of the Jedi. She was grateful when neither Marr nor Satele pursued the matter. “I have two Jedi who meet that criteria, Masters Fei and Markoon. The rest are green Jedi and fresh padawans, though some have healing abilities, if the medical tent has need,” Satele volunteered. Moxara wrote the names on her holopad to follow up with them later; “I will have them meet with Zax and Elara.” “My Sith guard are ideal for stationary positions of defense. I recommend the four of them be used as a defensive force, first at the forward base camp then as we clear out and hold portions of the valley,” Marr’s low voice intoned thoughtfully. “Two of the younger Sith are trained assassins, as I believe you once were, Commander.” Moxara nodded silently as she visualized the operative more clearly. “They work best alone. Once we identify the first Revaite target camp, we will have the three ground units surround it. The Sith would be able to pick off any runners trying to get a message out to warn the other camps – they will be our eyes. When enough camps are cleared, we can move the forward base up, putting ourselves in a position to take the temple. We will stay tight enough to be mobile if there are surprises.” Lana’s astute observation from the night before, the importance of giving autonomy to the individuals to empower them, hung in the back of her mind. Her confidence rose significantly, knowing she could integrate the military, Jedi, and Sith forces for this operation without having them step on each other’s toes. When Marr and Satele left the war council tent at noon, Mox continued to study the holoprojection, hoping for some secret in the topography of the valley she could use to their advantage. After some time, she acknowledged the floating blue pixels failure to speak to her, turned off the table, and headed toward the mess.

  
She slid onto a bench at an empty table in the corner, looking to comb through the reports on her datapad while she ate. She skimmed Lana’s, knowing she was already on schedule to have the comms ready for the blended units, and chuckled at the three bullet points sent by the resource engineers:

  
• Reclamation tanks installed in river  
• STR45-Z200’s upgraded per Commander’s request  
• Filtration processing up 15%

  
She made a note to congratulate them on the improvement, even if she had needed to force their hand to change to Imperial units. Elara’s report was the categorical opposite of the engineers’: in over ten pages, she laid out her physical and mental health survey observations for the first thirty soldiers (she promised to complete the remaining forty in the next two days), stack-ranked each team that had worked together thus far (she was building a model to adjust for age, experience, and length of time most recently deployed, but was eager to build in more variables). She included the list of Republic soldiers needing training on the speeders, along with their heights and weights (in case the mechanics needed to make adjustments in advance, of course). Mox was thoroughly impressed by the woman’s attention to detail and respected the data-driven approach, but was curious to see how the teams communicated and functioned together – some simple training runs to test compatibility would shine bright light on any problems. As she began to add the training activity to her ever-growing task list on the holopad, she was startled by a shadow suddenly cast over her.

  
Moxara looked up to find a young man, a tall, thin Jedi padawan, judging by his robes and closely-shorn hair. He looked no older than fifteen years of age, but carried himself like an Alderaanian noble, chin high and eyes low with distain. “Commander,” he gave a short bow of the Jedi fashion, his hooded hazel eyes dropping just low enough without conveying a sincere respect. “Master Shan and Master Be… Lord Beniko,” he coughed uncomfortably, “sent me. They said you needed…” “Sit.” Mox interrupted sternly. He stepped over the bench opposite her and arranged his robes. He kept his eyes level and placed his olive-skinned hands on the table, gently clasped, and waited. “Lana always did have a dark sense of humor,” Mox thought aloud, “but this is a bit much. What is your name, Padawan?” “Silar Baliss, Commander.” Her intuition had been correct: Baliss was one of the older, yet smaller, houses of nobility on Alderaan. “You have never participated in a military operation before.” He merely nodded, confirming her terse statement. “Where is your master?” Her voice was clipped as she worked out the boy’s situation. “Dead, Commander. He was one of the Revanite traitors.” “You do not want to be here.” “No, Commander.” He kept his head low as she stood and left the mess, furiously marching toward the communications tent.

  
“Lana!” she shouted as she threw back the flap: “what could you possibly have been thinking!” Lana slowly turned her chair away from the heap of comms devices on the desk before her to face Moxara. The team surrounding her quickly sidled away to flee their enraged commander. “Any Imperial conscript would have done just fine for a scribe. Hell, a Republic trooper could do the job. You send me a padawan child? A fragile Jedi from a pampered noble house on Alderaan?” Moxara began pacing in front of Lana, her exhaustion from the new management tasks boiling over. “I was under the impression you were going to find someone to ease my burdens, not add to them! This child doesn’t know war – he probably can’t even hold his lightsaber the right direction!” Mox rambled angrily, her mind already spinning on the multitude of tasks she assigned herself for the remainder of the day. She let out a massive groan and paused, realizing Lana hadn’t said a word. “Well?!”

  
“Yes, he comes from a noble house: he understands bookkeeping. He will be an excellent scribe. Beyond that, Satele assures me he is of a keen mind but needs a firmer hand than this old master provided.” Lana gave a sly smile and the tiny crows feet at her eyes betrayed her delight with her own plan. “I think it might help everyone if you gave up trying to micromanage the entire operation and perhaps focused on one thing you can control.” “I am not micromanaging,” Mox began to defend herself before Lana interrupted: “Oh? How much water was acquired today?” “4,000 litres, but they’re improving productivity!’ “And how many troops need training on speeders?” “Elara has identified fifteen so far…” “The Revanite ritual?” “They began translating a history that will be relevant!” Lana paused, her lips pursed. “You take on too much. Have Silas skim the reports and give you parts requiring decisions. Trust in the team and the leaders. I do like to think we are somewhat capable.” Moxara threw her head back with another groan. “I trust you, Lana. But…” “No buts. For this to work, you have to trust all of us.” She stood and put her hands on Mox’s beskar pauldrons, staring her friend in the eyes. “We trust you.” Lana wrapped her arms tightly around Mox’s smaller frame and held her friend tightly. “This will be good for you.” She broke away, turned Mox about, and gave her a small shove toward the tent flap. “Go. I am sure Zax is waiting for you. And take Silar along. Even Satele thinks you will be good for each other.”

  
Mox shook her head as she left the tent. She wasn’t surprised to find Silar where she had left him, sitting alone in the now-empty mess hall – simpering fool of a Jedi child had been trained like a puppy, no doubt.  
“Silar. Come with me,” she directed when she was a few meters away. He stood awkwardly, extracting his lanky legs from the narrow bench while maneuvering his robes. "Are you my new Master?” Silar asked softly. Mox turned on her heel to face him, though he stood six centimeters taller. "I am a Sith Lord, Darth Imperius, and the Alliance Commander. I am no Jedi and certainly no Master – masters have slaves. You will call me Moxara and I will call you Silar. You are not my padawan and certainly not a proper Sith acolyte, but I will do my best to teach you and, if you don’t get in your own way, you might learn something." He nodded his understanding, eyes wide. “Now follow.” She headed toward the mess’s exit and he hurried to follow up, his long legs helping him cover the distance quickly.

  
They crossed the camp quickly, heading for the equipment depot. “We start at oh-six-thirty each day. You will accompany me to the war council. You will not speak during council.” She ducked into the equipment tent while looking back at SIlar to gauge his confirmation and barreled into Delt. The huge man didn’t move an inch, but gave a small chuckle as he helped Mox right herself. “So, little lady, what can I do for you today?” “Thanks, Delt – sorry about that. I need,” she gestured at Silar, “light armor, I suppose. Anything so he doesn’t look like he’s going to a dirt-themed ball.” “Sure, I think we can kit out the sprout. Any blasters or ‘nades, or is he good with his saber?” “That,” Mox cringed inwardly, “remains to be seen. Silar is, for the forseeable future, my shadow and assistant.” Delt gave Silar a slap on the shoulder with his meaty hand, “poor Tyke – who’d you piss off?” He guffawed at his own joke and began pulling down a crate of light armor, hollering out for help. “Iovan? Can you get the kid a skin suit? Commander wants the kid mobile.” The Imperial conscript poked her head out from behind another stack of crates and then disappeared, returning with a small stack of clothes. “Standard issue. At least his boots look decent.” Silar’s olive skin hinted at a blush as he became astutely aware of everyone judging his clothing. “Yes, ma’am.” He mumbled, taking the pile from her. “It’s Sargent, actually,” She corrected him in her clipped Imperial tone. Delt took the pile from him and threw it on top of a crate. “I’ll get the rest of your armor and have it sent to your tent.” “Thank you, Delt,” Moxara was relieved for his offer so they didn’t have to backtrack. “Speaking of tents – do you know who can move him next to my site?” “No problem. I’ll have it set up before we break for the day.” “Perfect. Iovan?” She threw a wave to the woman. “Thanks for the speeder training report. Silar, come along.” She strode out of the tent and headed toward the comms tent.

  
If Lana was shocked at Moxara’s more peaceful return to the communications tent, she kept it to herself. The team of Imperial and Republic that worked on desks around her, however, dropped what they were doing and stood quickly. “As you were,” Moxara waved for them to be seated. “I just need a new holopad and two comms devices on a private channel. If I am to train Silar, I need him properly equipped.” Lana’s bright yellow eyes flicked to the tall youth who was hunching over, desperately making himself smaller as he followed Moxara’s dark, small form. “That won’t be a problem,” she rose and crossed the tent to one of many shelves, pulling out a bucket of items and sifting through. Plugging two ear pieces into her console, she configured them for a unique frequency, then handed them to Silar with a holopad. “This one has been wiped and secured – I’ll send Mox the address so she can contact it directly.” “Thank you, Lord Beniko.” Silar gave a small bow and avoided eye contact. She leaned in and whispered in his ear: “there are times when her bark is worse than her bite. This is one, but don’t ever underestimate her.” He nodded silently as Lana turned back to her console. Mox gave her a curious look before heading out of the tent with Silar close in tow.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Mox dressed and strode out into the bright morning rays of light that pierced the frigid air and shuddered, pulling her heavy black hood up to keep her ears warm and the sun from her eyes. Silar stood a few paces away, awkwardly tugging on his chest plate in an attempt to get it to sit properly. Mox stifled a laugh and approached, “Morning, Silar. If I may?” He held his arms out in submission as she flicked the side buckles and turned the plate in the right direction before clipping it back in place and pulling the straps tight. He scowled, “we never wore armor on Tython.” “And that was fine for then. Now we are preparing for a battle and our needs are different.” She expertly unclipped his pauldrons and reversed them, ensuring they were settled correctly on his narrow shoulders. “Better?” He stretched, extending his arms as he assessed the new gear. The black plastisteel armor weighed nothing, but felt more restrictive than his loose padawan robes. He squatted low, confirming the leg plates stayed in place, tucked his thin black gloves into his belt, and patted his lightsaber. “I think so. It’s just… different.” Moxara nodded in approval. “You will learn exactly what it covers and what it can protect you from – blaster hits from far distances, light impact from explosives, but mostly, from shrapnel. These pieces,“ she tapped his chest, shoulders, and forearm guards, “protect vital organs and the limbs you need to protect yourself. This is your first lesson.” “Yes ma’a… Moxara.” He stood up straight and gave off waves of excited energy that Mox couldn’t help but enjoy. “All right, time for council.” She headed off at her typical quick pace before glancing back. “Silar, where’s your holopad?” He blanched and stopped in his tracks. “I … um… I will be right back!” “See that you do.” He bolted back to his tent and she slowed her gait, allowing the youth to catch up as she entered the war room. 

“I wasn’t aware you desired to take on an acolyte, Commander.” Darth Marr’s deep voice seethed through the ventilator as he eyed Silar. “I didn’t and I don’t, Darth,” Moxara replied tersely. Marr and Satele stood alone on opposite sides of the holotable, having put their attachés, soldiers, and hangers-on to work. “I am merely appointing an unutilized resource as a scribe and assistant. I trust you have no issue?” She paused for half of a beat and continued, ignoring Satele’s poorly-concealed smirk: “good, then we will move on. How goes the progress with the Revanite ritual?” He scowled heavily at her dismissive retort. “There has been an advancement: we firmly believe their plan to summon the incorporeal Emperor is to commence when Yavin Four is in syzygy with the two other inhabited moons: Yavin Eight and Yavin Thirteen.” “And when is this alignment to occur?” Satele asked, leaning in over the holotable. “Twenty-two standard days.” Marr was stoic in asserting their deadline while Satele pulled back a sharp breath. “Do we know anything else?” Moxara pursued, her heartrate increasing steadily. “What they are going to do? How?” “My researchers are continuing to dig. It is some sort of blood rite, a sacrifice.” Satele’s lips grew thin as she processed the new information. “Well, then,” the older woman turned to Moxara. “It looks like your plan to breach the valley would best be executed sooner rather than later.” Moxara’s heart pounded in her chest as she processed this new information: the trigger that would launch the operation. She steeled herself and nodded. “Then we have much to do. Thank you, Marr, Satele. That will be all.” She turned and left the war room. Silar backed up slowly before following her out of the tent, giving a short bob of his head to Satele and avoiding Marr’s gaze altogether.

He hurried to catch up to Moxara, who had taken off at quick pace toward the edge of camp before racing away in a full sprint. He reached out through the Force and could feel her stress building, a dizziness as she fled into the thick jungle. He slowed his pace, unsure how to proceed. If Grand Master Satele thought this appointment was right, he must work hard to serve the Commander. Ducking his tall frame under the heavy branches of the trees, he followed her path down and away from the base. Eventually, he discovered Moxara, knelt over the edge of a pond that emptied into a dark cave, repeatedly splashing the frigid water on her face. Silar calculated she’d covered roughly four kilometers when he caught up, slowly approaching her hunched, black figure. She pulled the edge of her cloak up to dry her face and fell back to sit on a large rock. “What do you know of Sith blood rituals, Silar?” She asked as if he was sitting next to her. Carefully stepping down onto the mossy stones, he grimaced, “we were forbidden to research or discuss them, Mas… Moxara.” He bit his lip as he lost and regained footing, coming to a hard landing beside her, catching himself on his hands. “That is likely for the best.” She reached over and took one of his scraped hands in her gloved ones, tracing down the lines where droplets of blood crept to the surface to clot. “Blood is power – a means of control – but a desperate one. If the Revanites are committed to this ritual, they will be fighting us with every fiber of their being, because they have nothing of themselves to preserve. They will not want to win, do you understand?” She pulled him gently forward and placed his hand in the icy water, sending a shock of chill through him. “We must stop them, incapacitate them, but they will want to die.” “How…” Silar’s voice was soft as he sunk his other hand into the water. “How do we do that? There are thousands…” he trailed off as the ripples in the water faded, revealing the reflection of his fearful hazel eyes. “I don’t know yet.” Moxara’s voice rose as she began to re-center herself. “But I have to try.”

Silar tugged his gloves on to hide his scrapes and they trudged together back uphill to the camp. He had always been good at sensing the emotions of others, and knowing the commander was so deeply terrified by this operation scared him to his core. As he processed that thought, he realized he wouldn’t want to follow someone who wasn’t afraid, but moreover he admired that she had acknowledged her fear and steeled herself against it. Moxara’s ability to pivot to a plan of attack was had landed her this role, he’d been told. He was eager to see how she would proceed and curious to learn more about her. “Moxara?” Silar broke the silence. “Why do you follow the Sith ways?” “Do I?” she kept her eyes forward as she pressed on. “I was taken as a child, raised in their ways, and learned what I could, but the moment I could make my own choices, I did.” “You dress like them, you use Sith power, you bear their titles, and you support the Empire,” he protested. “Religion and politics are structures of power in the galaxy. I chose not to sever ties where I retained power I could use.” Silar pondered this: “You took control from within.” “Let this be your second lesson, Silar: power is never given. A uniform or title are empty symbols if people don’t trust their leaders. The titles the Sith gave me – Lord, Darth, Dark Council Member – those were handed down. I was nominated as Commanded by those below me, and that means something. It carries weight and power, but more importantly, responsibility.”

She took a deep breath, “But I digress: this alliance will succeed because we have competent people with a common goal. You, Silar, have been thrust into a unique position and will see far more of the innerworkings of both sides than others. Do not take this for granted – it’s a great opportunity to learn.” “There is no ignorance, there is knowledge” he recited the Jedi code and Moxara laughed. “Oh, there is plenty of ignorance, but you should pursue knowledge for the power of freedom it gives you.” “I am free – all citizens of the Republic are,” he challenged. “No, Silar: you merely wear gilded chains. The Jedi will seek to control you, impose their rules on everyone…” Her voice faded as she recalled Theron being sent away. “I’m sorry, Moxara – I sense I brought up a bad memory.” She stopped, taking a deep breath, eager to change the subject, “You can sense others’ emotions?” He nodded, wiping the light sheen of sweat from his forehead. “Can you control them?” “My master was beginning to teach me, I can calm and distract, sometimes.” “Fantastic – we’ll continue that training. Not my forte, but I can find someone. Any other special skills?” “I was one of the stronger duelists.” Moxara’s face lit up, “Now THAT I can help with. Ever practiced with Shien?” She started walking again and they could hear the bustle of the camp. “No – the Masters on Tython considered the fifth form too aggressive.” “Well, that’s just silly. If someone is shooting at you, it’s pure defense to deflect the bolts.” She threw a dark smile back at Silar: “and it would be impolite not to return them.” “Hah hah, Moxara…” his voice was flat. “You will always have tools at your disposal that others don’t. You have the power to use those to your advantage, but the real power is choice. That is the greatest freedom.” Her voice conveyed her deep passion for the topic, but Silar couldn’t hold back: “Are you sure you weren’t trained a Jedi?” “What?” She threw him a side-eye. “I was pretty sure only the Jedi Masters were so high-minded and preachy.” She reached back and gave him a small thwack on the back of his head. “That’s for being pert. But fair point well made. I’ll just make you read the old texts, if you prefer.” His laughter from her teasing smack fell away as he imagined the stacks of dusty books in the Jedi libraries. “Nope, no, no thank you! Oral and practical lessons are fantastic. I will report as much to Master Satele!” Moxara winced: of course Satele had him reporting back – she’d all but placed a spy at her side. At least he didn’t seem fully aware of it and Moxara wouldn’t be surprised when he returned to the Order at the end of the operation. 

Moxara was relieved no one commented on her swift departure from the morning’s war council when she and Silar returned. They headed to the mess to grab a mid-day meal and review the reports before going through the first training exercise with Zax’s new squads. She waved as people stopped to give short bows or salutes, throwing an easy smile to each in turn: “eat up – you’re going to need your strength!” The low hum of teams discussing her meaning served as a reminder: “Silar – add a weekly report to the schedule.” She slid into a bench and Silar set two trays on the table before pulling out his holopad, “Yes, from who and regarding what?” She scanned the large mess tent, appreciating the wide variety of teams and the improvement of merging over the last week, then stared straight at Silar: “Me. I will speak to the entire Alliance. Everyone needs to know what we’re up against, and they should hear it from me.” He nodded, taking a quick bite as he edited the calendar. “This afternoon, we will see if Zax’s new teams are up for some drills, get in some lightsaber training, and join meditation.” He nodded, but even without his skill, she could sense his weariness from the morning – she had to remind herself how young he was. “Actually, let’s take a real break. I will meet you with the troops in an hour.” When he finished eating, she shooed him away before wending her way out of the mess and toward the comms tent.

Lana looked up from her console when Mox entered, rising to meet her. “Commander?” “Care for a walk?” Lana nodded and waved the rest of her team back to work before following Mox outside. “Where’s your tall shadow?” “I gave him a break. Were we really that young once?” “Perhaps, a long time ago.” Lana rolled her shoulders back, glad to be away from the console. “I vaguely remember it being some semblance of fun as we discovered and honed our powers. But that’s not why you came by. What’s on your mind?” Mox pursed her lips in a thin smile, waving at a group of troopers as they passed. “Privacy first.” Her voice was low as she gently guided Lana’s elbow to direct them toward her tent. Lana pulled a small disc from her belt pouch and placed it on the central table, placing her finger over her lips to signal silence while she spun a dial until a small blue dot lit up. “This provides a small radius of white noise – it will make it harder for us to be overheard.” Moxara collapsed into her seat with her head in her hands. “We have twenty-two days until they attempt the ritual – it’s a Sith blood ritual.” “Do you think if we take down Arkous, they will lose focus, not be able to complete it?” Moxara nodded: “That’s my only hope. I don’t have the power to incapacitate thousands…” “Well, that’s a major flaw in your logic right there: you are not alone, Mox.” She reached over the table and grabbed Moxara’s hand in hers. “We may not have a massive force, but we have a committed one. If you lay out a plan, they will follow.” “I feel in over my head.” “I think that’s fair,” Lana replied sagely. “You’re shouldering a lot of the responsibility. You will make the big decisions. Then again, you’re only Commander because we chose you, so it’s back on all of us if you fail.” She smiled, giving Mox’s hand a firm squeeze before releasing it. “So, I can just blame you, right?” Mox gave a half-smile. “Hardly,” Lana pointed to the metal device. “Turn left until blue for quiet, right to turn it off. Hold onto that prototype – it covers about a two-meter radius. I will have the synced comms units ready for the troopers when you have your teams defined. Go see the troops – I know you’ll feel better for some time being hands-on.” Moxara stood and brushed off imaginary dust from her beskar pauldrons: “perhaps I can show the grunts a thing or two.” “Now that’s the woman I know.” Lana held the tent flap back as Mox turned off the silencer and followed out into the camp.

Silar was sitting on a stray crate, flicking through his holopad when Moxara approached. “Ready to see our soldiers?” “I’ve been reading Elara’s most recent report, actually,” Silar stood and fell in next to her as they trod to the far side of the camp where drills were conducted. “The troops meet her standard requirements when working as individuals or in familiar teams, but it seems they’ve had repeated incidents with the blended groups…” “What kind of incidents?” Moxara’s eyebrow raised. They’d only been at it for a week – how much trouble could they cause? Silar stifled a small laugh that betrayed his youth as he read, “It seems some… err… Imperial trooper protective equipment was… um… defaced with permaink?” “They drew cocks on the white plastisteel.” Moxara said bluntly and Silar nodded. “Classy. Anything else?” “Two Republic soldiers were tied to a tree in their skivvies – seems it took a while to find them.” Moxara rolled her eyes. “And there have been a few minor injuries Elara suspects were intentional. They came up to the edge of the large area Zax had laid out with training obstacles, using the existing jungle along with platforms, ropes, and blockades. The leader of Havoc Squad himself stood with his arms crossed and a heavy frown as a group of six men began to emerge over a 3 meter wall, dropping down and trudging up to him. “Major,” breathless, the first snapped a quick salute before putting his hands on his thighs, completely winded. The first four were Imperial troopers in white armor – Mox noted each had parts that had been scoured and left with fresh scrapes – and the last two wore the darker equipment of the Republic recruits. Zax tapped on the small computer attached to his left forearm: “Twenty-three minutes? You’re actually getting slower!” The last man struggled to speak as he tried to loosen the armor from his chest: “Those damn Imps tricked us! This is ridiculous, Major!” “One unit, one goal!” Zax shouted, exasperated. On the opposite side of the grounds, Elara seemed to be having a similar conversation with a second team returning from the woods. 

“Are we having fun yet?” Moxara asked as she and Silar approached Zax and the two units. “Commander.” He snapped a salute and the units followed suit. “At ease.” She looked over the thirteen frustrated faces, Zax’s included. “You,” she pointed to a Republic soldier. “Who is your enemy?” He blanched at being put on the spot and stared down at the toes of his boots. “How about you?” she asked a brawny Imperial man. “Whoever the Empire tells me to kill, sir.” She shook her head. “Darth Marr, presently the voice of the Empire for you, has chosen to defer to me. Do you trust his judgement?” “Yes, sir.” “Do you trust my judgement.” He hesitated just a beat before replying. “Yes, sir.” “No, you don’t: I don’t need the Force to tell me you don’t trust me, you don’t trust Zax, you certainly don’t trust your fellow soldiers. This is an issue of respect and MUST change.” She started pacing in a slow circle around the group. “I respect each and every one of you. The alliance absolutely needs each and every one of you in order to succeed, so I need each and every one of you. Major Zax: were you and Havoc lock-step from day 1?” “Absolutely not, sir,” Zax scowled defensively. “But we always got the job done.” She nodded. “I don’t need you to like each other. I need you to trust in the mission and respect each other enough to get the job done.” She paused in front of an Imperial soldier. “Am I asking too much?” “No, sir.” His reply came quickly, to her relief. She stood next to Zax and raised her voice, repeating herself to the entirety of the units: “Am I asking too much?” “No, sir.” They spoke as one. “I need you ready to begin pushing toward the valley entrance and I need to know each and every one of you has my back, because I will be leading the first group. Zax: two days, six volunteers.” The major nodded sharply and gave another salute as she turned on heel to leave. “Oh, and if I get a report from Delt that a single piece of gear fails inspection for a reason other than mechanical failure, all of you will be cleaning my ship with a toothbrush.”

She led Silar back into the camp. “I hate when I have to remind adults to act like it.” “I don’t think most people have your high-minded perspective, Moxara.” She gave him another thwack on the back of the head. “Just because it’s true doesn’t mean you should say it aloud.” They stifled a shared laugh and composed themselves before ducking into the Jedi’s makeshift meditation room.


End file.
